


violet; from overseas

by Ghovls



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, M/M, MT!Prompto, Minor Character Death, More plot than I bargained for, Multi, Reclusive but secretly kinky Noctis???, background Gladnis - Freeform, based off some tumblr art, florist!prompto, luna as a perfect beautiful goddess who deserves better than these dumb bros, there's lots of sweetness in here too!, they like baths lol, weddings!!, welp i'm giving up this is now an angst filled piece of shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-09-26 15:26:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 41,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9908666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghovls/pseuds/Ghovls
Summary: Proudly providing arrangements for the royal wedding of Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum and Lady Lunafreya Nox Fleuret; Argentum's, Insomnia's finest Florist.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, [miuminn did this cute art on tumblr](http://miuminn.tumblr.com/post/157598902771/florist-au-prompto-the-cute-flower-shop-boy-and) of Prompto working at a flower shop and Noct hitting on him and oh god I don't... Know...
> 
> I'm still gonna finish Come Around Sundown very soon, and I don't plan on this being very long, but HEY, here's a teeny prologue.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Here I wander in April_  
>  _Cold, grey-headed; and still to my_  
>  _Heart, Spring comes with a bound, Spring the deliverer._  
>  \-- Robert Louis Stevenson, Flower God, God Of The Spring

The winters in Insomnia never got too cold, but Prompto's mood was still elevated by the warm breeze that greeted him as he stepped outside in the morning. He'd woken up early enough to grab a coffee before heading to work, which he double checked to confirm on his watch as he made his way down the street.

Usually, he didn't treat himself to things like coffee in the morning, because little purchases like that added up and he was already scraping by as it was, but his boss had given him more hours during the Valentines' Day rush last month, so he figured that he deserved a treat now that he had some extra cash.

The coffee shop wasn't far, and after he'd ordered a drip (and stared longingly at a cinnamon bun for a few torturous seconds), he waited by the bar for it to be poured and overheard some of the small-talk going on between the couple seated by the window.

“...It's official now. The prince is actually _marrying_ her.”

“Awh, really!? It's kind of sweet; the prince and the oracle. They go together, right?”

“I guess. If you're into that kind of thing. I don't really care as long as it eases all the tension going on.”

“Oh come on, you barely follow politics, now you're gonna get all preachy?”

Prompto accepted his coffee with a smile and a thank-you. He lingered by the bar for a moment to splash some cream into the cup, then checked his watch once more-- it was about time to open up the shop. On the way out he grabbed a newspaper, curious about the supposed wedding announcement between the prince and the oracle.

When Prompto approached the darkened windows of Argentum's, he fished for his keys, managing to get the door unlocked while still holding onto his coffee and paper. He flicked on the lights, put down his drink and then set about his opening duties such as counting the till and checking which plants needed watering, feeding, or to be repotted. Prompto took extra care; his boss was away for a few weeks out in Altissia, sourcing a new type of fern that they wanted to start carrying in the store, travelling with a group of Horticulture enthusiasts.

It was sometimes stressful taking care of the shop duties on his own (he wanted to make a good impression), but Prompto was grateful for the extra money and hours. He'd immigrated to Lucis when he was young and lived between part-time paychecks at the flower shop and royal-issued assistance cheques that he was entitled to as a war refugee.

Some wistful part of him wished that he could have gone to Altissia too. Aside from growing up in Gralea, he'd only seen the world through the windows of a train and from the rails of a boat. He remembered passing through the green seas of grass that made up Tenebrae, the sylleblossoms bending slightly in the wind. The image was strong in his mind, an ocean of violet. He would have taken a picture had he owned a camera at the time, but now all he had was the memory, and a desire to see the rest of the world's beauty. For now, the florist would have to do; Argentum's specialized in flowers from countries outside of Lucis, and so the blond often found himself revisiting those daydreams of those places beyond the wall. If only the empire hadn't annexed almost everything beyond Insomnia. If only he had the money and means to leave...

The morning was slow, slow enough that once Prompto had set up the outdoor display (for the first time this season)! He was able to linger behind the counter and sip at his coffee while reading the newspaper. An announcement of marriage between Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum and the Oracle, Lady Lunafreya Nox Fluret dominated the headlines, photos of both the prince and the lady staring back at Prompto in muted newsprint as he read. The both of them were so... perfect. They were like a modern fairytale; a prince marrying a princess to slow the progression of war to a stop. The more he stared at Lady Luna's kind expression and Prince Noctis' deep, sharp stare, the further he fell into a state of daydreams.

What was it like up in the Citadel? How far did the gardens of Tenebrae reach? How did it feel to have magic coursing through your veins, to be born into a place where everything was provided for you?

Lazily, Prompto lift his coffee to his lips, but his blue eyes wandered from the paper to the window, from the photograph of Prince Noctis staring up at him to the real thing peering through the panes of glass at Prompto with an unsure expression. At first, the flower-boy was too far into his haze to put two-and-two together, but once he realized that Prince Noctis was inspecting a carefully arranged basket of cut, cream-coloured roses outside Prompto's modest little shop, he started and managed to spill the piping hot drink over the front of his apron.

“Fuck!” He cursed, wriggling out of the hot, wet fabric and tossing it onto the floor in a hurry, just as a big pair of black boots stepped through the already propped open door.

“Noct, C'mon,” came a deep, rough voice.

Prompto, having shed his apron now stood with the counter between himself and a hulking man dressed in black, a massive tattoo spreading across his equally massive arms. He looked almost too big to be in the quaint little shop, and stepped carefully to avoid knocking any of the breakable trinkets over while making way for this 'Noct.'

“Coming. Geeze.”

On the large man's heels was an impeccably dressed individual who looked about Prompto's age. He wore a black suit, sans jacket, which was carefully tossed over his shoulder and held in place by one slender white hand. The sun coming through the open door and window illuminated him like some kind of god and Prompto thought that maybe he answered his own question about how it felt to know magic.

Noct-- The Prince, tipped his head and closed his eyes before drawing in a deep breath. “Smells nice in here,” he remarked. “Eh, Gladio?”

“Yeah. Real nice,” the large man agreed with a nod before crossing his arms over his chest.

Still stunned by the apron, the burning sensation of hot coffee on his skin, and the presence of royalty all at once, Prompto let out a little squeak instead of a proper greeting. Still, he managed to hurry out from behind the counter and bow.

“Uhm. Your Highness?”

Fuck. He hadn't meant to pose it as a question, but his nerves were completely shot.

“Is... Is there something I can do for you?”

The prince hummed, not looking at Prompto just yet. Instead, his eyes roved the humble shop, as if searching for something. It took a moment, but finally the blond followed his gaze to the far end of the store where it seemed to have come to rest. Noctis was looking at the flowers all arranged on dark wooden shelves, protected from the elements by a thick glass door. Behind that door was where Prompto cared for the most volatile and delicate flora-- the blooms not used to Insomnia's unique climate.

“My adviser told me you specialize in Sylleblossoms. No one in Insomnia does but you.”

Still looking at the case, Prompto eyed the tempered blooms from where they were planted, growing in neat little rows on evenly spaced shelves baring wooden planters. The flowers themselves were of the deepest blue, supported on slender and elegant stems. The blossoms were rare, native only to the hills and meadows of Tenebrae and producing a sweet, dreamlike scent. Prompto had fallen in love with photographs of them as a child. He dreamed of seeing them wild in nature, nestled contently along the endless vale.

Right now, he made do with what he could grow.

“I... Y-yes. Yes. We grow them here. I grow them, too. The glass keeps the temperature and humidity at optimal levels so that they stay healthy and in bloom. Uhm. Your Highness, would you like one? I... Can cut a bouquet, too. They're ready. Or if you're looking to transplant them I can get you care instructions and--”

Prompto stopped when the prince held up his hand, his lips pulled into a bit of a crooked smile; as if he found the flower-boy's enthusiasm... charming?

“My wedding is in two months. How many arrangements can you have ready?”

“Oh. Uhm. I... just work here part-time, Highness,” Prompto hurried, but realized that he'd probably be flayed alive for turning down a royal request. “My boss. The owner. He's away on business, but let me get in touch with him. I can have an answer for you by tomorrow. Is that alright? In the meantime...”

Prompto returned to the counter and pulled a business card from the small holder by the register, giving it to the larger man, who's name must have been Gladio. “Please take this.”

The man took the card and handed it off to the prince, who's smile dazzled.

“Alright. We'll be in touch.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Young gladioli with the necks of swans,_  
>  _Laurels divine, of exiled souls the dream,_  
>  _Vermilion as the modesty of dawns._  
>  \-- Stephanie Mallarme, The Flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this is based off of [miuminn's beautiful artwork](http://miuminn.tumblr.com/post/157598902771/florist-au-prompto-the-cute-flower-shop-boy-and)!

Prompto was still reeling at the end of the workday. After he'd brought in the displays from the sidewalk, locked the door and counted the till, he stayed behind to clip any wilted blooms off of the potted plants and saw to tidying any displays before leaving. In reality, he was putting off calling Mr. Argentum-- unsure of what the royal proposal would mean for the shop, _for him_. He wondered if he boss would pack his bags and head back to Insomnia, if he'd decide to take the job. Gods knew, they could've used the money, and Prompto for some reason, had the smallest desire to see the prince once again.

Eventually, he'd lingered around the shop as long as he could and grabbed his shoulder bag before locking up and heading home.

The florist's apartment was small, humble much like the shop. He lived in one of the poorer districts – as most of the Imperial refugees did – in an old, low rise complex which held a stark contrast to the sleek and modern buildings of the Crown City's central area. The streets here were narrower than in the neighbourhood Argentum's stood, and most of the buildings were a little worse for wear. Like any city, there were good parts and bad, but Prompto was just grateful to be on the safe side of the wall, away from the war. Even if he were to try to go back home he would hardly be welcome, the stark black ink etched into his skin would have seen to that.

Prompto had stolen away to Insomnia as a young man. At fifteen he'd boarded the train from Gralea, armed with only anxiety, a few Gil, and forged identification which carried him as far as Lestallum. For a few years, he let his fake papers vouch for his lies about his age. He worked at an auto shop just outside of the city there, pumping gas and earning his keep with a natural knack for machinery. The work was hard and the city was hot, but he was paid with a place to stay and a warm meal. There was little to complain about, until Imperial troops started appearing in town. Prompto, who still dreamt of those lush violet blooms and the smell of fresh grass decided that it was time to move on.

So, Prompto hitch-hiked his way to Insomnia and eventually met Mr. Argentum when he was seventeen. He knew nothing about plants, but Prompto had been drawn in by the display of Sylleblossoms outside the small shop one damp spring morning. Living on the streets, he'd swallowed his pride and begged the man for work. The flowers had been a sign, and he had been in need.

Unofficially, Prompto took the florist's last name, apprenticing to him and fancying him a sort of father figure. The man was a bit of an eccentric, obsessed with Horticulture, but an excellent teacher who found the fair-haired boy's eagerness and ability to absorbed information impressive. As Prompto learned, Mr. Argentum became more confident leaving the store in his hands as he aged. He'd spoken of retirement often, but was currently content to travel Eos with his group of Horticulture enthusiasts, which left Prompto in charge of the humble shop. With his first paycheck, Prompto purchased a camera. Regrettably, he had missed the chance to capture the image of Sylleblossoms in Tenebrae as he sped by on that train. He would never let a moment like that pass him by ever again.

Turning his key in the lock, Prompto pushed open the flimsy door with his shoulder and stepped inside before letting it close behind him. He flicked the lock and bolted the chain before dumping his bag off of his shoulder with a sigh. He had to call Mr. Argentum and talk to him about the Prince's proposal, but first he needed to eat something and to bathe.

The apartment was small and hardly an apartment at all. A place fit for one, the small kitchen took up the eastern wall of the apartment. On the west side, a mattress wedged in the corner served as Prompto's bed, a door to the bathroom nearby. By far, the best feature of the apartment was the balcony, a small slab of concrete that caught the western sun as it set. On its sill, Prompto could grow whatever potted plants he wished in Insomnia's fair climate. He had few personal belongings, save for a television (but no cable, just a few old video games), a radio, his phone, and photography supplies. Wherever the sun reached, a potted plant happily sat. His wardrobe was hardly extensive, and drying clothes were strung from a line over his balcony whenever there wasn't rain.

The weather was warm, even while the sun still set. So Prompto, dressed in low-slung cotton pants, towel still hanging over his shoulders, decided to step outside before he made the call. Leaning on the balcony's rail, he stood upwind from his little garden while he lit a cigarette to calm his nerves, bringing the pack to his mouth and sliding one out with his teeth. Smoking, a terrible habit he'd picked up playing grease monkey in Lestallum that he couldn't shake. He was trying to quit, but there was little left aside from gardening and his photography that kept his anxiety in check. Prompto had thought about cracking a beer after work more than once, but he was afraid that if he started, he'd fall down a very slippery slope. At least he still had his wits when it came to cigarettes.

After a few puffs of his cigarette, Prompto finally worked up the courage to pull out his phone. He dialed, let it ring once, twice, three times. He was about to hang up after five rings, secretly relieved that he didn't have to deal with work just yet, however a voice on the other end had his chest clench tightly.

“Prompto? Is everything all right?”

“Y-yeah, Mr. Argentum. It's just that something's come up at the shop.”

A sigh. “ _Ceres_ , Prompto.”

“Right. So...”

Prompto hardly called Mr. Argentum by his first name, simply out of respect, but he could understand why the man found it overly formal. Taking another drag from his cigarette, he told the florist about Prince Noctis' visit and the deadline for the wedding arrangements.

“If you want to go ahead with it, I'll get all the details.”

Ceres agreed that they could use the money, besides it would be a great honour (and remarkable for business) if Argentum's was billed as the florist for one of the most important royal weddings to date.

“There is one hitch, my boy.” Despite his words, the eccentric elder sounded quite pleased. “Because of the war, it's becoming increasingly difficult to travel. Myself and the rest of the Horticulture Society will be staying in Altissia for awhile longer, the protectorate being neutral territory and all. It's for the best, anyway. Tomorrow we're going to look at the rare Accordan waterlily. I've been told that...”

The florist went on while Prompto sucked down on his cigarette. The old man's enthusiasm for flora was sometimes just as overbearing as it was admirable. The boy sighed out blue and grey smoke, watching it twist and coil against a blood red sunset. He slumped forward on the rail and closed his eyes, feeling the weight of his new responsibility already pressing on his sun-kissed shoulders.

“Ceres. Ceres listen. D-do you really think I can handle it?” He asked.

“Of course, my boy. I've taught you well, and you're a clever young man.”

Prompto had a difficult time believing Mr. Argentum, but he was quietly grateful for that small bit of praise, nonetheless. Still, the man's lack of deep concern and ability to truly believe that everything would go smoothly was almost irritating. Why did no one ever seem to step back and look at the details? Analyze what can (and probably will) go wrong?

“...Okay,” he finally breathed. “But one more thing before I let you go, Ceres. Please, uhm. Be careful.”

“Oh. Don't fret Prompto. The Empire wants naught from a few harmless florists!”

“Right. Good night, Ceres.”

“Good night Prompto. I'll bring you back a pressed lily if you'd like.”

“Yeah. I... would.”

Prompto cut the connection and stubbed out his cigarette on the railing before dropping it into the empty bucket at his feet where it swam in a pool of old rainwater and formerly discarded butts. Mr. Argentum's positive attitude was hardly contagious, if anything it made Prompto worry more. Now, there were expectations to be met, _royal expectations._ There was more reason than ever to panic. As grateful as he was for the florist's care, the two of them were extremely different people.

Chilly now, Prompto headed inside and kicked around the pile of laundry on his floor in order to find a shirt. Then, he slumped down onto his mattress and flicked on the radio, apprehensively listening to the evening news broadcast which still covered the Prince's upcoming wedding. Rolling onto his back, he pulled up the internet browser on his phone and scrolled through articles on the very same subject.

Frowning, he paused on a photo of the Prince, set beside a photo of the Oracle. They both looked... unreal, too perfect and gorgeous to be anything but dreams. It was like they were made for each other, Luna with her radiant smile and slender shoulder, Noctis with his defined jaw and steely gaze. Prompto tried to think back to when the Prince had come into the shop, unable to recall if his eyes were that sharp in person or if it was a photographer's trick. Once more, he looked between the photos of the two and sighed heavily. He wasn't... thrilled about this whole arrangement. As grateful as he was for the safety of the wall, he couldn't help but feel a little jaded as he estimated the amount of Gil that would be spent on the flowers alone. It seemed.... excessive, especially in contrast with his creaking mattress and peeling wallpaper. Noctis and Luna, their world didn't have a place for his soil-covered hands.

The next morning, Prompto opened the shop without a hitch. About an hour into his shift a sleek black car drove slowly along the street. The apprentice-florist watched through the large window, peering past the painted on lettering (Argentum's. Insomnia's finest florist), and watching it park across the street. The driver's door opened and an impeccably dressed man emerged, closing the door behind him and straightening his cuffs. He wore black, the colour of Lucian royalty, his collared shirt rolled up to his elbows and free of any unsightly wrinkles. His light brown hair was cropped short and styled into tame spikes at the front. He wore glasses and pointed, polished boots. Under his arm he carried a black mailer-sized envelope.

As the tall, slender man walked through the open door, Prompto raised his head and greeted him as warmly as he could.

“Ah. You must be Mr. Argentum's apprentice. Prompto, I presume?”

“Y-yeah,” Prompto said, brow furrowing in slight surprise. Then again, he figured that the royals would have probably checked out every detail of the flower shop before deciding on hiring them. In his fugue, the florist didn't notice the stranger's expression right away. He seemed unimpressed, and so Prompto tried again. “I-I mean, yes. Yes, Prompto Argentum. That's me.”

He hurried out from behind the counter and reached out with his right hand for the bespectacled man to shake, mindful of the bracelets he wore.

The man raised a brow over the frame of his glasses, but eventually offered up his own hand and shook Prompto's. He wore grey and white driving gloves and the leather was supple and smooth against the florist's calloused fingers.

“Ignis Scientia, advisor and steward to His Highness, Crown Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum.”

Prompto took note of the stiff accent, the overly formal weight of his words. It was a deep contrast to how the prince and his guard had acted yesterday and it had thrown him off guard.

The man, Ignis, must have noticed, for he cleared his throat and pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose with one finger. “I have for you some documents, Mr. Argentum. If we might review them, should you accept his Highness' request. If...” Ignis paused, and some of the calculation in his voice dropped away, (perhaps underneath the decorum, Ignis was a good guy)?

“If you require assistance understanding any of the passages, or clarification regarding the terms, I'm more that happy to be of service.”

“R-right,” Prompto said, accepting the envelope, which he now could see was embossed in silver with the crest of Lucis. “And please,” he added as he moved to the counter. “Call me Prompto.”

The florist grabbed a pen from the cup on his desk and began to sift through the documents. As he did, he was mindful of the way Ignis politely browsed the shop. He seemed like a man with fine tastes, so maybe he saw flowers as something... well, fine? Prompto believed that there was most certainly a bloom out there for everyone to appreciate, anyway.

He looked over the terms, the expectations, the non-disclosure agreements, the media contracts, and filled out the blanks that were left for him. All of this was done in silence, with the sounds of the street filtering through the open door and the radio humming quietly in the background. In his own thick, loopy handwriting, Prompto drew up a quote and then handed everything back to Ignis once he was done. The advisor looked everything over with an indistinguishable nod.

“I can send a formal, typed invoice in a few days by courier,” Prompto assured with a confident nod.

“Excellent,” Ignis replied as he tucked the paperwork away.

Prompto watched as the advisor made to leave, but he stopped short before reaching the doorway, turning confidently on his heel and returning to the florist.

“Did I--?”

“A personal request,” Ignis clipped, his voice somewhat strained.

At first, Prompto didn't really think much of it as he wrapped a thick, white ribbon around the smooth black pot. In it, one bulb of white Gladiolus stems in full bloom. “When watering them, make sure you let it drain; the bulb will rot if the soil stays waterlogged. There's some gravel at the bottom to help with that, but make sure you put a plate, or saucer beneath the pot or something.”

“Understood.”

Later on in the afternoon, Prompto paused halfway through his lunch and gasped, nearly choking on his root beer. Gladio!? _Really?_ He supposed that there was romance all over the Citadel these days.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UHM. So. I'm ALWAYS SHOEHORNING GLADNIS IN I'M SORRY. (and everything is always such a slow burn omfg help me)
> 
> Celes = latin for harvest. I thought it was fitting for Prompto's sortofdad.
> 
> SMoking... I would give my life to see Regis and his King's Tale crew smoke cigars, yo.
> 
> as always, pls follow me on tumblr if you wanna be friends. i'm lonely af mvgitek.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Under leaves so green_  
>  _A happy blossom_  
>  _Sees you, swift as arrow,_  
>  _Seek your cradle narrow_  
>  \-- William Blake, The Blossom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when you actually know very little about what goes into wedding planning/floral arrangements but you’ve dug the hole for the au and you have to bury yourself in it (and plant cute flowers on ur grave while you’re at it).
> 
> the RATING WENT UP!!!! I also promise that Luna will be here soon.

The next few days, Prompto alternated his time between managing the storefront and working on the arrangements for Noctis and Luna's wedding. With spring settling over Insomnia, many of the fresh flowers Argentum's sold were in season, and business was obviously picking up again now that citizens were thinking about planting gardens and hosting family gatherings. Still, priorities had to be considered and Prompto made an executive descision to cut store hours in favor of working on the wedding arragements. His first step was to create a window display of Sylleblossoms to advertise Prince Noctis and Lady Lunafreya's flower of choice-- if he advertised that Argentum's was catering to the wedding, the shop's popularity would skyrocket, and he felt as if customers would be more understanding as to why opening hours had to be reduced. The florist also entertained the idea of working on the arragements in full view of the street, (or at least what he was allowed to get away with without breaking any privacy agreements), so that foot traffic passing the store would be drawn to look and so fanatics of the royal family could get their fill of spectacle.

This Sunday, a light sping rain drizzled down the main strip. Prompto had walked from home to Argentum's, as usual, but had at least put on a hooded jacket to combat the showers. The shop remained closed to the public, but he had planned on staying for most of the day to work. The contract called for quite a few arrangements, including a centrepiece for each guest table, an arragement for the wedding party's table, boughs to line the Citadel's chapel, and main hall where both the wedding and reception dinner would be held. Then, of course the front balcony required some kind of accent-- the newleywed couple would no doubt make a brief appearance to greet the public there. The carriage needed to be adorned with  _something_ and the chocobos needed bridle decor.

Of course, the most important detail would be Lady Lunafreya's bouquet. Prompto had looked at photograph after photograph of her dress, her shoes, her veil, her jewelery and felt the pressure mount. The bouquet was... important. Traditionally, brides to the King had always carried white flowers to contrast with the royal Lucian black. However, Prompto had learned that there had been some exceptions. The Sixth ruler of Insomnia, a reclusive queen, carried Lotus flowers with her. The king before her, who was also wed to the Oracle, had requested lavenders to symbolize their love-at-first-sight story.

Prompto knew that the Sylleblossoms would have to be the central focus, but he needed more. He needed to tell Lady Luna's story and he needed to convey what this marriage meant for the future of Insomnia and the Empire.

He only hoped that Prince Noctis didn't make any last minute requests for a lapel arrangement. Prompto had already seen mockups of what the Prince was to wear... between the cloak and the crest pin he would be wearing, the florist didn't think there would be room for anything, anyway but a lot could change in two months, so he had to be prepared.

Prompto began sourcing vases and adornments such as ribbon and wire for shape. He scoured the internet for photos of centrepieces, researched symbolism and poured over the ceremony details Ignis had provided him to see if there was anything he could draw inspiration from. Luna: the moon and Noctis: the night sky, the light? Maybe he could draw from their names?

In the background, the radio droned on with the latest wedding gossip rising just above the patter of rain on glass. It was his first official day on the job and Prompto's life had already been consumed by royal family mania. He was like one of those middle aged women who bought magazines and scoured the internet for scandal within the Citadel, it seemed.

He worked until the early afternoon, only stopping when his gut rumbled defiantly. He frowned, patting his flattened stomach and doing a quick runthrough of what he'd eaten today. Fruit and granola at breakfast and green tea about an hour later. It'd definitely been too long since he'd eaten. He'd been nursing a glass of water that had long since gone room temperature, and had told himself that he wasn't going to have any carbonated drinks for a little while, (yesterday's root beer had been a treat). Prompto kept to a strict diet, though he was loathe to call it that. He preferred referring to his eating habits as healthy, and he leaned towards small, frequent snacks rather than large meals. Keeping track of his health and his eating habits made him feel a little bit more in control of things, another tactic that kept his anxities in check. Eating right also did wonders for his self-esteem and energy levels, something he would need to keep on high until this job was over. Now, if only he could quit smoking.

A knock at the door had him startle, blue eyes going wide as he whipped around to see who had caused the sound. He was about to approach the door and tell the potential customer that they were closed due to the wedding preparations, but stopped short when he realized who it was. Dressed in casual black clothes, heavy boots and holding a large black umbrella was Prince Noctis, presumably alone and waiting outside Prompto's shop in the  _rain_ .

Gathering his wits, the florist hurried to the door and nearly wrenched it open, the bell overhead ringing pleasantly. “Prince Noctis,” he greeted, bending at the waist before stepping aside and imploring the man come in and out of the rain.

“Noct,” the prince corrected gently, still hovering the the doorway like a well-dressed shadow. Safe under he striped awning, he closed his umbrella for the time being and glanced over Prompto's shoulder, as if to try and sneak a peek at the progress the florist had been making. “The window looks great,” he added, nodding towards the Sylleblossom display. “I knew we picked the right man for the job.”

Prompto sputtered something that sounded like thanks, his freckled cheeks bruised like rose petals while he averted his gaze and raised one hand to scratch nervously at the nape of his neck.

Noctis made a show of checking his watch. “It's almost one o'clock, “ he mused. “Are you coming for lunch?”

The prince didn't seem to be asking as much as he was expecting. 

“I... Uh, didn't know that there were arrangements,” Prompto said, trying to sound smooth, and perhaps a bit formal by using the word 'arrangement' in lieu of plans.

“Nah,” Noctis replied. “I'm asking you _now_. Are you coming?”

For a moment, Prompto stared. His jaw worked as if he wanted to say something, his blue eyes large with disbelief. Eventually, he nodded and stepped away from the door, shucking off his apron and pulling on his jacket instead.

* * *

 

“Are you--”

“Alone? Never. There's always someone tailing me,” Noctis said with a small laugh and Prompto dreamed up an amusing image of Gladio with his great size and height, trying to blend in with a crowd. He laughed, too.

The prince smiled, sliding a hand into his pocket. His shoulder bumped Prompto's once or twice as they walked, since they were sharing his umbrella. He didn't mind of course, he'd come here of his own validition. Since they'd first wandered into the shop, Noctis had an eye for the florist; his lithe frame, fair hair, and cute freckles brushed across the bridge of his nose. Insomnian royalty courting multiple lovers was hardly unheard of, and if his past correspondance with Luna was to be considered, he was sure to have her blessing anyway. Sure, he was maybe getting ahead of himself, but Noctis was a bit of a romantic at heart. Growing up in the Citadel, Noctis' life had always been a strict pattern of lecture and training. As a child, he craved bedtime stories from his father. As a teen, he invested in video games and comic books, momentary flights of fancy where he could let his imagination run free. He could create an illusion of freedom and choice in a life where he had very little say in the direction of his destiny.

The prospect of spending time with Prompto was appealing in the same way as fiction. A chaste moment separate from the Citadel and preordained paths to simply go out for a bite to eat with someone  _outside_ of his circle of retainers, Prompto was the perfect excuse because Noctis could visit him under the guise of checking in on the progress of his arrangements. All he had to do was convinced everyone that he was invested in the aesthetics of his upcoming nuptials.

“I don't want to overwhelm you,” Noctis spoke up again, reaching out with his free hand to touch the small of Prompto's back, guiding him around the corner. “But I had to make reservations somewhere a little over the top-- it's the only way I can get any privacy.”

“Wh-what?” Prompto's already fair skin paled considerably. He was dressed in an old windbreaker and his work clothes, hardly anything fit for fine dining. The florist was hyper-aware of the prince's gentle hand on his back, but didn't think to comment. Maybe Noct was just a touchy-feely kind of guy? Maybe he was just touch-starved from keeping up appearances all day?

“I'm just kidding,” Noctis said with a loud laugh that Prompto hadn't expected.

“W- _What!?_ ” The florist repeated, though the exclamation was much more severe. “I'm gonna have a heart attack,” he practically whined, deflating under the prince's touch. “Is that what they teach you in the Citadel? How to be an asshole?” Prompto was so winded that he forgot to reprimand himself for speaking so candidly in the presence of royalty.

* * *

“I'm... getting a little old for stuff like this,” Noctis admitted, but he slid into the red, faux leather booth with a happy sigh after he'd shucked off his loose-fitting jacket. “I used to come here in high school and absolutely dominate the pinball machine.” 

Prompto flopped into the booth across from Noctis and glanced at the game set up in the far corner. Lights danced along the machine's surface and it occasionally played a familiar little tune. “Justice Monsters,” he said with a nod. “When I lived in Lestallum, we had a machine at the auto shop I was working at. I'd play once I figured out how to rig the thing into giving me free games.”

He hadn't meant to brag, just upturn a fond memory of living in that damn oven of a town.

“You lived in Lestallum?”

Prompto blinked at the prince, seeking to see if his curosity was genuine or not. Ignis had seemed to know a lot about him the other day, and so he was surprised that Noctis was asking questions. The inqusitive look in those slate blue eyes told Prompto that this was no farce. He smiled and nodded, absently picking at the corner of the laminated menu.

“I would have thought your... uhm... Ignis would have told you all about me,” he said.

Noctis shrugged. “I'd rather just find out from you,” he said as he pushed his menu away. “I already know what I'm getting. You?”

When the wait staff came by, Noctis ordered a burger, french fries and a cola. Prompto went with a vegetable wrap and unsweetened iced tea. When their food arrived, Prompto watched with fascination as Noctis sourly removed the tomato, lettuce, and pickles from his burger.

“Vegetables,” he scowled.

Prompto, feeling a little bit bold, moved the accursed items to his own plate and unwrapped the whole wheat tortilla holding his wrap together and added the extra greenery.

“So, you grow plants and eat them, too.” Noctis hummed and watched Prompto with a smirk. “You want to come over for dinner with my dad next time? You'd be a good scapegoat.”

The florist laughed, shaking his head as he re-assembled his lunch. “I don't think I'd survive a dinner at  _your_ place, your highnNnoct.”

“We'll work up to it then,” The prince said with a wink and Prompto's stomach flipped around in the most pleasant of ways. The only downside now was that he was afraid of his lunch not staying down, especially if Noctis kept _looking at him like that_.

* * *

 

The prince had walked Prompto back to the shop, careful in assuring that the umbrella covered both of them until they were both safe and dry under the cover of the awning.

“I'll see you later, then.”

Noctis' expression was charming, and he knew it. He knew it because Prompto was getting rosy-cheeked and meek all over again, even though they'd just shared a meal together in relative ease, shooting casual banter back and forth.

“I'll... See you,” Prompto agreed, sounding more breathless than he would have liked.

* * *

 

That evening, the drizzle had turned into a full on downpour. Noctis sparred with Gladio for an hour or so, intending to have a light dinner with his father afterwards. However, it seemed the King was too preoccupied with business and would be unavailable for the rest of the night. Along with Prince Noctis' wedding came a treaty signing, which loomed ever closer. Soon, Insomnia would play host to not only wedding guests, but also Imperial soldiers and higher-ups. Paperwork would be signed and agreements would be made. The Lucian Kingdom would keep their anotomy in exchange for the prince's wedding vows to Luna. However, an uneasiness was still present regarding the terms... King Regis refused to give up the crystal to Imperial control, as it was the last bastion of power afforded to the Lucian bloodline. Noctis and Luna's wedding was a mere prologue in a long book of negotiations waiting to happen.

It bothered Noctis to see the war sapping the life and youth out of his father. He'd aged rapidly as of late, too rapidly for it to be natural. Such was the price of the crystal's magic, he was told.

Ignis had delivered the news of Regis' dinner cancellation with a sympathetic frown.

Gladio clapped a hand on Noctis' shoulder and tried a smile. “Why don't you have dinner with Iris and I? She's getting to be a damn good cook.”

“Thanks Gladio, but I'm good.”

“It would be my pleasure to drive you home, Highness.” Ignis' expression softened as he made eye contact with the Sheild, silently thanking him for trying.

“...Yeah. Okay. Thanks Iggy.”

* * *

 

Ignis had stayed and offered to make dinner, but Noctis had declined. Instead, he reheated some leftovers, showered, and threw on his pajamas before sinking onto the couch. Maybe he'd be less miserable once Luna was here, unless she was going to be just as busy with Oracle business. It irritated Noctis, but he understood. Luna had a duty to the people just as much as he did. It wouldn't look good on her to travel all the way from Tenebrae and not even meet with those who needed her. An Oracle's job was to be the commoner's connection to the Gods, and Luna took her duty from The Six to the people very seriously. She had always been more grown up than he.

Rain pounded against the windows still, and Noctis huffed. Fitting.

* * *

 

Prompto eased himself into the warm water with a groan, the heat doing wonders on his tense muscles. The rain hadn't let up, so he hadn't been able to go for a run. He offset that by doing a few floor exercises inside, but all he really wanted was to sink into a bath while the storm raged outside. There was something comforting about hearing the rain clatter outside the open bathroom window, the cooler air from the outside mingling with his bathwater and creating a heavy steam. Prompto sank further into the tub and let his eyes drift closed, he was just about to reach that beautiful place between asleep and awake when his phone began to ring.

“What now...”

One arm hung outside the porcelain ledge, still dry enough to handle his phone. He leaned over the tub, brow furrowed. His annoyance had risen enough that he didn't even bother to check who it was, simply brought it to his ear and grumbled. “Hello?”

“...Oh. Is this a bad time?”

Noctis' sullen, but dreamy tenor floated through the phone and Prompto slipped slighlty, causing hot water to slosh around.

Yes. Yes this was a bad time. A  _very bad time_ .

“No. No, of course not! Hey, Noctis.”

“Hey, Prompto.”

Prompto gingerly lay back, closing his eyes tightly and willing himself to relax. It's not like Noctis  _knew_ he was naked in the tub or anything. When his eyes fluttered open again, Prompto focused intently on the ever-growing black spot of mould on the part of the wall where the bathtub was caulked up against ugly green tile.

“Hey,” he repeated. “Did you. Uhm. Need something? Is this about the flowers?”

“Nawh,” Noctis admitted openly. “I was just... bored.”

“Oh. Well.” Prompto sat up a little, drawing his knees to his bare chest and heaving out a warm sigh.

“What're you doing right now? I can hear something... Splashing?”

Noctis had been honest about why he was calling, so Prompto decided to be honest, too. After all, it might make some of the embarrassment go away if he wasn't spending the entire phone call pretending to do something he wasn't.

“I'm in the tub,” he said, trying to sound casual about it.

“...You still take baths? Are you twelve?”

“Yeah. On a scale of one to ten, anyway.”

There was silence from Noctis' end and then breathless, shaking laughter.

“ _Shiva's breath_ , Prompto! Shit--”

Noctis' laughter was contagious and the florist couldn't help but laugh, too. It was easy to do this back and forth with the prince when he didn't think too hard. It was even easier over the phone, where he couldn't be swept off his feet by the curve of pale lips, or the way Noctis' expressions always seemed so intense, curtained by his thick, black lashes.

Prompto touched his forehead to his knee and winced, trying to stop thinking about Noctis'  _mouth_ while he was  _naked in the bathtub._

“Mm. You know, at lunch,” Noctis said once he'd recovered. “You didn't finish telling me about Lestallum. How long did you live there?”

“Uh... a year or so?” Prompto replied, almost too quickly. He was glad for the change of subject, no question. “I worked at an auto-shop. I said that right? I fixed cars and pumped gas, you know?”

“Huh.” Noctis mused. “You know your way around cars then?”

“Yeah. I like machines and stuff. Cars. Cameras. Video games, too.”

“But you're into nature, too.”

“Well... I'm a three-dimensional character, Noctis.”

The prince stifled another laugh.

“But yeah. Cars are cool. Insomnian technology is a lot different than what they build in Gralea though.”

“Oh. That's right,” Noctis remembered. “Ignis told me, you're a Ni-- Uh. You're from outside of Lucis.”

Prompto tried not to let the discontented sound escape his lips as he stared at the tattoo on his wrist, lowering the phone away from his ear for a moment.

“Prompto?” Noctis distant voice buzzed through the speaker. Prompto sighed, but returned the device to his ear.

“Yeah. I'm a Niff,” he said quietly.

“...I didn't mean it like that,” Noctis insisted.

“It's... okay,” Prompto half-lied, listening to the rain pounding on the pavement outside. “It's-- They've done some shitty things to your family, and your people, too.”

“You're... here now, though.”

Prompto could hear the caution in Noctis' voice, and the florist knew he really was sorry.

“You're here now, and it doesn't really matter where you come from. You're a crown citizen. My dad will look after you.”

Except he wasn't. He wondered how long it would take before Ignis found the falsifications in his paper-trail.

“ _I'll_... Look after you. I know the system for refugees isn't perfect, but when I'm king--”

“Noct...” The blond took a sharp breath, surprised at the raw honesty in the prince's voice. He cradled the phone to his ear and then sank back against the wall of the tub, stretching his legs out.

“Y-yeah?”

“Why'd you take me out for lunch today?”

Silence, save for the sound of the rain on one side, and Noctis' quiet breathing on the other.

“...It was a date,” Noctis admitted, swallowing.

“You're engaged.”

“Doesn't matter.”

“Luna...”

“Will think you're cute, too.”

“... _Cute?_ ” Prompto hoped Noctis cold _hear_ his frown.

“Mmhm. She likes blonds.”

“Too bad for you” A pause. “Are you alone?”

“Yeah.”

"Liar. You told me you're never alone."

Carefully, Prompto set his phone on the floor outside the tub after turning it on speaker. It was definitely easier to find confidence when he couldn't  _see_ the prince.

"Ugh. You know what I--"

“Can you hear me, Noct?”

“Y-yeah, but...”

Prompto drew one knee up and curled his spine slightly, reaching under the water and trailing his fingers down from his chest to his abdomen. Teeth playing with his bottom lip while his fingertips smoothed over familiar dips and curves before circling around his twitching arousal.

“Prompto?” Came Noctis' distorted voice.

“Mhmm...” The blonde gave himself a few strokes beneath the warm water, moaning quietly as he let his head fall back.

“Oh. _Shit_.” Noctis breathed from the other end of the line.

“Should I start slow?” Prompto drawled, already treating himself to languid, barely-there touches. He smile curled at his lips and he found confidence somewhere in the idea that he could flip things around. He could get back at Noctis for making him sweat with his playful looks and invasions of personal space. He wondered even, if Princes even _had_ time for proper sexual experiences before getting married off. Maybe he was so flirtatious because he was frustrated? Maybe he was all talk? Let this be a test.

“Yeah. Slow, Prompto.”

Noctis' voice rolled over him in a wave, making his spine curl like the sloshing water around him. Lips parted, legs open, Prompto felt a flare of heat inside of him. “Tell me,  _highness,”_ he breathed.

“Tell you what?” Noctis grunted, clearly having an... _issue_ Prompto dropped the formal title. “That you're... Good?”

The prince slid further down the couch, shoving his hand down the front of his sweatpants without much finesse. The words of praise came smoothly; they felt foreign and dirty on his tongue and that alone was fucking exciting.

“Mhmhm... Thank you, highness,” Prompto laid it on thick, like the frosting would be on the Prince's future wedding cake. He could hear Noctis grunting and moaning quietly on the other end of the phone line, and that was enough to spurr him into asking if he could pick up the pace, teasing his mouth with his fingers and feel his own panting breaths against his lips.

Noctis' cock practically jumped into his hand. Prompto's gratefulness bringing out raw arousal in his gut. He wanted to hear more of... whatever it was they were doing. “Y-yeah. Prompto... Touch yourself for me.” 

The blond sucked salt from his fingers, hips bucking as he full on stroked himself beneath the water. Soon he was moaning out the princes' name, only to push his fingers further past his lips to muffle the sound. He could hear Noctis' scolding him as if he were right there. His hot breath tickling his ear.

The prince was fully immersed in their little game, jacking himself while he delivered another clipped order to the blond. “Y-you'll not use my name,” he gasped. Noctis was already dripping precome and he used it to slick himself up, imagining Prompto's warm, angel-kissed skin brushing against his own.

“Nnn...” Prompto whined, smearing saliva across his lips and describing the motion to Noctis. “I-if you were here... You'd do it. You'd make me a mess.... Y-you... ah..”

“I'd...” Noctis nodded in agreement, nearly dropping the phone and growling into the reciever. “You'd be... so fuckin' filthy. So pretty...”

“Oh. F-fuck. Highness. Please, please-- _Nnf_....”

Noctis was rambling on faster than he could process, but the words still struck chords with Prompto, stroking deep inside of him and making him shake with that sweet tenor.  _So sweet, so pretty, I like you dirty like this..._ The words resonated, Prompto's head dropped back and his mouth hung open as he came, pleasure hitting him in waves, Noctis' voice wrapping him in heat, making it seem like he was there.

Vaguely, he could hear the prince reach his own climax, a shout and a series of moans following.

Spent, Prompto let out a breathy laugh and pushed himself forward. His limbs were heavy and hardly responsive, but he managed to drape himself over the side of the tub like a contented feline perched on a sill.

“Thank you, majesty.” He let the words roll off his sinful tongue like a purr, eyelids drooping.

From Noctis' end, a satisfied sigh. “Don't stay in the tub too long,” he breathed. “You'll get sick once the water cools.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“since the thing perhaps is_  
>  _to eat flowers and not to be afraid”_  
>  \-- E.E. Cummings, Complete Poems, 1904-1962

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not happy with this chapter, tbh. it's short and... bleh, but i have plans for the story and i want to get them out...  
> a big thank you to ImmisImm for being supportive on literally everything i've written so far, and Miuminn for making the beautiful art that inspired this fic.

Prompto couldn't tell if he'd toed a line with his stunt in the bath, or if things had just gotten busy up in the Citadel. He hadn't seen or heard from the prince in few days and either explanation would be a passable one in the florist's opinion. News outlets were firing on all cylinders. Between the wedding, the treaty, the war, and King Regis' declining health there was hardly a shortage of gossip among the Crown City. Perhaps Noctis was shying away from the public eye? Come to think of it, he hardly saw the prince on TV, nor heard his voice on the radio very often. Perhaps he was a bit of a recluse when he wasn't busy flirting with apprentice florists?

Although it was a little disheartening, Prompto was pretty used to the concept of one night stands and so he didn't dwell too much on it. Besides, he had an incredible amount of work to get done. The romance between Noctis and Luna would need to come before any one of the Prince's flings.

And yet... Noctis _had_ called it a date and he _had_ mentioned Luna to him. Prompto couldn't really shake the foolish optimisim he held; he was already too hopeful to tell himself that pining was a waste of time.

Work made the days pass by quickly, and on the occasions that he was able to have regular hours at the store, chatting with customers was a good distraction. Some of them asked about Ceres, but most of them offered their congratulations on scooping up the contract for the wedding. Requests for Sylleblossoms were out of control-- every girl wanted to be the Lady Luna to someone's Prince Noctis, but luckily Prompto was charming and knowledgeable enough to steer his customers towards alternatives during the inevitable shortages.

* * *

 

Three days had passed and Prompto was walking home from another solid workday when his phone began to buzz. He hadn't really been looking at it during work hours, but he pulled it out of his jacket pocket and turned on the display, surprised to see messages from both Noctis and... Ignis? Since he was still kind of in work mode, Prompto decided to do the responsible thing and check to see what Ignis' message had read.

>  >> _Wedding plans are moving ahead, please see the attached schedule._

Prompto scrolled out with his thumb and tapped the document the advisor had fired over. It contained a schedule outlining the remainder of this month, and the next all leading up to the wedding. In a few days time, he would apparently be meeting with Lady Luna to discuss her bouquet and match it with her dress. Then, closer to the day, he'd be back in the Citadel actually setting up the arrangements and making changes where needed. The Florist pinched the bridge of his nose, deciding that it'd be best for him to program all of these dates into his phone and then print out a copy of the calendar to hang up at home, and in the shop. He couldn't afford to mess up. He sent off a quick message to Ignis to confirm he'd received his schedule.

It wasn't until he got home that Prompto gathered the courage to look at Noctis' texts. The evening was warm, and so he unfolded the little metal chair he kept leaning against the balcony rail and lit up a cigarette.

> _> > You free this weekend?_  
>  _ >> It's nbd, just a pre-wedding thing._  
>  _ >> I know we're putting you to work but it's just a night._

Prompto skimmed over the messages with a raised brow. Was Noctis trying to invite him to a bachelor party, or something? The blond took a drag from his cigarette and hunched over his phone, unsure what to feel. The florist might have jumped headfirst into phone sex, but there was something weirdly intimate about what might possibly be a gathering of the Prince's closest, oldest friends. Still, it felt... nice to be invited to something, even if he was nervous about it.

> _> > I can make time?? _¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Still clutching the device in one hand, Prompto stared it down, seeing the notification that Noctis was still typing something out. He found his leg jiggling with anticipation as he burned holes into the screen, forcing smoke out of his lungs through the corner of his mouth while he waited.

> _> > Nice. Bring what you need to stay the night. Everything else is good.  
>  >> We'll pick you up Sat morning._

* * *

 

Prompto had packed pretty light. The essentials, clothes to sleep in, a jacket and sweater in case it got cold, his camera and whatever accessories he'd need to go with it. It all fit in one bag that he could swing over his bare shoulder while he checked his phone. Ignis had said that he would be by in a manner of minutes and so Prompto decided he'd be polite and wait outside. The stoop on his building was spacious enough that he could sit on the stairs without blocking the people who wanted to enter or exit, and the concrete absorbed the heat in a way that made basking in the sun a little more comfortable.

The car was easy enough to spot-- it was the nicest car in this part of town, painted black just as everything that belonged to the royal family was. The top was down and Ignis was driving, the large man that Prompto recognized as Gladio taking up the backseat.

“H-hey,” Prompto hurried out to the car and offered a wave to both of them, honestly trying to think about what exactly kind of bachelor party this was going to be. Prince Noctis' advisor and his bodyguard seemed a bit... stiff, but on the other hand maybe it was presumptuous to assume he knew everything about people he'd only met once, and through formal channels.

“Lemme take that,” Gladio said as he stood up in the car. He reached for Prompto's bag and nodded towards Ignis. "Take shotgun, I need all the room I can get back here."

“Alright. Sure thing.” Prompto nodded and handed off his bag, which Gladio set down on the seat beside him (among other luggage). The Shield offered a warm, wide smile that contrasted with his sharp, scarred features and Prompto decided then and there that he liked him and his massive, complex tattoo-- It was pretty cool.

The florist slid into the front seat and put on his seatbelt, instantly finding comfort in the vehicle's plush interior. He wondered where they were going, what their plans were, and where Noctis might have been. As they pulled away from his apartment, Ignis began to speak as if he knew what was on Prompto's mind.

“I'm assuming the Prince neglected to fill you in?”

“Yeah. Kinda.”

Ignis sighed, one hand leaving the wheel so that he could take a sip of the drink nestled in the cupholder. Ebony, a strong brand of coffee that was pretty popular among people who were into spending upwards of 50 Gil on a caffeine fix. “We're heading to Cape Caem for the night. It's a... vacation property of sorts that has been in the Lucian family for many, many years. It's the prince's wish to have a night with his closest friends before the wedding ceremony.”

“A bachelor party,” Gladio supplied, grinning at them both through the rearview mirror.

“Hardly,” Ignis replied, meeting Gladio's reflection over the frames of his glasses, as if he was warning the bigger man about putting any unsavory ideas into the Prince's head. “We're heading to the cape, not Gauldin Quay.”

The Shield just laughed, “yeah. Noct's way too shy for something like that. He's already getting hitched, but he's still tryin' to figure out puberty.”

Prompto tired so hard not to let the flush redden his cheeks, so he pretended to be very interested in his camera while he posed a fairly innocent question.

“Where's No-- The Prince, anyway?”

“Ah. He's spending the afternoon with the King. He'll join us later this evening.”

Ignis' sharp eyes peeled away from the road just long enough to see what Prompto was holding, his interest piqued. “An aspiring photographer?”

Prompto shrugged his shoulders and felt his cheeks burn a little. “Sort of. I just thought maybe... Noct might wanna preserve his single life or whatever.”

At that, Gladiolus barked with laughter from the backseat, even Ignis chuckled. Prompto smiled, though he couldn't help but think about what both Ignis and Gladio had said. Were his advisor, his bodyguard, and now an illegal refugee _really_ Noctis' closest friends? Was he actually so reserved about his sexuality as his retainers let on? Then again, things had escalated pretty quickly the other night. Maybe Prompto had opened some kind of tightly shut floodgate or something? That might explain why Noctis had went from flirty to coy like the flick of a switch.

Oh well. There wasn't much use mulling on it now. He was about to get a pretty decent vacation under some pretty incredible circumstances after a week of hard work. Smiling somewhat, he lift the viewfinder to his eye and set his sights on something new.

As they drove, Prompto fiddled with his camera, snapping pictures of whatever caught his eye once they'd crossed the bridge out of Insomnia. Since moving here, he hadn't left the city for fear of his papers not holding up the way they used to. Besides, he really didn't have any reason to leave. As often as he thought about travelling with Mr. Argentum, he knew it wasn't feasible; no one would be around to look after the shop, and the fear of war still loomed overhead.

Pictures would have to do.

“So. How far is this place anyway?” Prompto asked.

“A few hour's drive. We'll make it just in time for supper,” Ignis said, glancing to the clock on the dash.

“Yeah. Don't worry blondie, Iggy'll get us up there before any daemons decide to make a snack outta you.”

Prompto twisted in his seat, touching his spiked tufts of hair a little dejectedly. “I'm... not scared of daemons,” he nearly pouted.

“Ah. A little fear is sometimes healthy,” Ignis counselled.

Prompto watch as Gladio reclined in his seat, a confident look across his scarred expression. The florist was pretty sure that he was more terrified of him than any monster from the dark.

* * *

 

Ignis parked the car on a small, paved boulevard located at the bottom of a steep, grassy incline. The breeze coming off the water was refreshing, and very much unlike the smell or taste of city air.

Prompto stepped out of the car and helped Gladio with their bags, wanting to be useful if nothing else. He couldn't see much beyond the rocky hill, but Ignis was already starting up the path after he'd locked the car and made sure they had all of their belongings.

“So, uhm. How can we do this without the press going crazy over Noctis leaving town?” Prompto hazarded as he kept pace with Gladio while they climbed.

The Shield glanced at Prompto, adjusting the strap of his bag over one inked shoulder. “The Crownsguard will do their job making sure we're not disturbed,” he explained with an inkling of pride in his voice. “Noct's pretty reclusive for a celebrity, but this was his idea so we're all pretty committed to it going down without any problems. It's not everyday you get married to the Oracle; we've gotta celebrate.”

“And Prince Noctis' idea of celebrating is...?”

“Spending a bit of time with his dad, and a bit of time with his friends. He'll probably be dragging us out to the bluffs to watch him fish... Literally his idea of fun.”

“He likes fishing?” Prompto smiled a little bit. He wasn't sure why, but discovering Noctis' enjoyment of something so... normal made him kind of happy-- it was endearing. “I bet his majesty fishes, too. It's kind of a father son hobby, huh?”

Gladio shook his head. “I wouldn't know.”

The three of them came up on a scenic display. A cottage positioned at the tip of the cliff, overlooking the sea, paint peeling slightly from the wear of the salty air and brine. Positioned not far off, a picturesque lighthouse stood proudly, it's light no doubt deterring daemons from shambling too close.

The seaborne breeze rustled Prompto's fair hair and he could taste the ocean on his tongue. He couldn't resist taking in a deep breath, dropping the luggage as he did so.

“It's nice,” he commented, pulling out his camera to snap a photo. On the climb up he'd noticed bright flashes of yellow and orange bending in the wind. Lantana and Yarrow; two heady flowers that grew well in seaside climates, as they thrived in salty soil. He wanted to take some photos later, maybe pick some to dry or press.

Once he'd taken a photo of the cottage, he followed Gladio and Ignis inside.

* * *

 

Ignis had already cooked dinner for the three of them by the time Noctis arrived.

“Hey!” Prompto jumped up from his seat, hurrying to help the prince with his bag. He wouldn't lie that he felt slightly stressed out being alone for so long with Gladio and Ignis. The two of them were no doubt, good people, but the florist was still antsy about what had happened on the phone. He wanted to make a good impression on the retainers, but it was difficult to while he sweated about something dirty he'd done without stopping to think. “I'll take these upstairs!”

He didn't give Noctis a chance to react, but hurried up the creaking stairs so quickly that he almost tripped.

“He's certainly spritely,” Ignis commented, glancing up the stairs and then to Noctis. “Are you hungry?”

“Nawh. I ate with dad.”

Noctis followed Ignis' gaze up to where Prompto disappeared behind the door to their bedroom, trying to control the flush in his cheeks. He was still reeling from their last phone call. Nothing had excited him as much as... whatever that was, and he so badly wanted to get back into that kind of territory again as soon as he could.

“Good.” Gladio leaned back in his chair so far that he was balancing it on his back legs. “So, can we crack 'em open yet? You sure as hell made us wait.”

“Yeah,” Noctis said with a grin. He kicked off his shoes and shucked his jacket from his shoulders, draping it messily over the back of a dining chair before crossing the room and opening the fridge. “Ah-hah,” he exclaimed, glass clinking as he slid three bottlenecks between his fingers. Triumphantly, he held up the beer and offered one to each of his retainers and then grabbed a fourth for Prompto.

When the blond came down the stairs, the three of them were already sitting around the table with cold beers in their hands. Ignis had produced a deck of cards and was beginning to shuffle.

“Hey,” Noct called, turning in his seat and pulling out a chair for Prompto. “C'mere. Grab a drink.”

Prompto hesitated at first. He wasn't much of a drinker, but he decided that one or two couldn't hurt if they were celebrating. He didn't have problems with alcohol, he just never really had time for drinking buddies and didn't want to end up one of those sad people who drank alone. Besides, his diet didn't really leave much room for beer...

What the hell? He decided. The other night, he'd taken a risk with Noctis. Maybe one more wouldn't hurt.

* * *

 

It wasn't long until Prompto felt as if he'd known the Prince and his retinue much longer than just a few days. While they played cards, he snapped photos of smiling faces, great victories and terrible losses as they drank their beers and egged on Gladio's unreasonably competitive spirit. At one point Noctis leaned close to Prompto's ear and whispered something about how he'd never seen Ignis drink before.

Prompto had learned that the Shield liked cheesy romance novels, had a younger sister named Iris who had a secret crush on Noctis, and that he ate too much unhealthy fast food, particularly cup noodles. He learned that Ignis was exceptionally good at holding his alcohol, tried much too hard to hide his relationship with Gladio, and was very tight-lipped about what he wanted to do with his life if he hadn't been appointed as Noctis' advisor.

Noctis had joked, saying that he couldn't imagine the two of them doing anything else.

“You'd _die_ without Ignis, at least,” Gladio teased, his words slightly slurred and very overdramatic. He'd been going through drinks much faster than the rest of them. “Y'know when... when Noctis was little he couldn't even--”

“Stop!” Noctis practically leaped across the table to cover Gladio's mouth with his hand, scattering their cards and effectively ruining the game.

Prompto was having trouble calming his laughter. His chest hurt and his eyes stung, but there was a warmth in his gut and a lightness in his head that came from a little more than just the booze. The most important thing he'd learned tonight was that it _wasn't_ so sad that Noctis' only friends were the people under his employ. Gladio and Ignis were _good people_ and it was easy to see how much the three of them cared for each other.

Ignis shook his head. “I suppose we'll never have a winner,” he lamented, shifting slightly in his seat as a little-more-than-tipsy Gladio leaned too close. He cleared his throat and moved to stand, coming around behind the Shield to take hold of his shoulders. “Up you get,” he coaxed, trying not to sound too fond, in spite of Noctis' teasing laughter.

“I'll put him to bed, but please do carry on without us.”

“G'night,” Noctis said, voice still light with laughter. Prompto echoed the prince, offering a wave.

Once Gladio and Ignis were safely upstairs, Noctis got up and moved to the fridge, grabbed two more bottles and then jerking his head towards the door. “Road beer?” He asked, holding up one of the drinks.

* * *

 

They'd both pulled on their jackets and headed outside. It was still pleasantly warm, but the ocean breeze was just chilly enough to warrant the extra layer now that the sun was almost set. Prompto slid his camera into his pocket and held his beer in one hand, following Noctis away from the cottage.

“C'mon,” Noct called, taking a swig of his drink and leading them towards the lighthouse.

They were silent during the elevator ride up, Prompto taking another drink and letting the heavy liquid ground him. Noctis' eyes were sharp and bright, even in the waning light and Prompto wondered if it was because of the magic. Obviously, someone like him didn't know much about the power passed down by the Lucian bloodline, only that it was a gift from The Six and that it allowed the royal families to channel the crystal's power. The crystal provided them with protection from both man and daemon, and was one of the biggest causes of the Empire's madness.

“Do you feel it at all?” Prompto asked, once they'd reached the top. He crossed his arms over the railing and balanced his beer atop it so that he could snap a few pictures of the sunset. The sky was bleeding into the sea, a mess of yellows and orange reflected, giving way to a deep pink and purple night.

“Huh?”

“...Uh,” Prompto sniffed, putting down his camera. “Magic. I mean. Sorry, I don't know why I'm thinking about it.”

Noctis shrugged. “It's alright. I'm not-- Once I become the king, I think I'll feel different. For now...”

The Prince set down his drink and extended his arm, reaching out for something Prompto couldn't see. Shimmering white gathered near the prince's outstretched fingers, forming a blade that now became a weight in Noctis' waiting hand. He stepped back, twirled the weapon expertly with one hand (even after downing a few drinks) and then shook it away into some unknown place where it would wait to be called again. Prompto watched as it dissipated into the shining blue.

“For now I can defend myself, at least.”

Prompto nodded, feeling his skin tingle as if he'd been touched by that glittering, crystalline power. The air definitely hummed with something different, mysticism wrapped into the sea breeze.

“It's... kinda cool,” Prompto ventured, instantly sorry he had nothing more constructive to say.

Noctis nodded, but it was half-hearted and he was quick to go back to his drink. Prompto felt as if he'd messed up. He shimmied a little closer and reached for Noctis' hand where it gripped the railing. He slid his fingers between the spaces in the prince's, feeling the warmth, the leftover electricity from summoning up his power. The hairs on his arms stood on end and he squeezed gently.

“You're gonna be a good king,” he said. “You... already promised you'd take care of me, anyway. So, I mean... I'm covered. Fuck everyone else, right?” He raised an eyebrow, catching Noctis' eye and waiting, watching his stoic expression crumble and transform into a smile.

“Gotta look out for number one, huh?” Noctis couldn't _not_ smile when Prompto joked; he couldn't imagine denying those bright, sky-blue eyes.

“Mmhm,” The florist hummed, taking another sip from his beer. “You wanna talk about your dad at all?”

In Prompto's line of work, he dealt with people all day. Sure, flowers were the beginning, but customer service went a pretty long way, especially when you were poor as fuck and wanted to make your paycheques keep coming. He wasn't stupid, and he could put two and two together enough to know that the King was getting old, (it was all over the news) and that Noctis wouldn't have been late to his own party hadn't in been important.

“What can I say?” The prince said with a shake of his head. Prompto could see something in his eyes that resembled fear. “I might be king sooner than I think.”

* * *

 

They finished their beers and before it got too dark, Prompto led them down to where he'd seen the Yarrow growing.

“There's good soil here,” he mused, crouching down to get a closer look while Noctis stood behind him with his arms crossed. He had no qualms watching or listening to the florist go on about his trade. There was something endearing in the way he reached out to cradle the little yellow blossoms in careful hands. The Prince wondered if Prompto had to practice, had to get out of the head space of being a mechanic, or being whatever he was back in Niflheim in order to discipline himself to soften his touch. Prompto spoke quietly, fondly over the sound of chirping crickets and gentle waves lapping at the side of the cliff. The air was fresh, clean and pleasantly cool, it felt good in Noctis' hair and rustled the grass to make a pleasant sound.

“...and the cliffs won't come too far back if these flowers keep spreading, since their roots are a good defence against erosion.” He paused, glancing out to the edge of the cliff. “Maybe when it's light, I'll take some pictures.”

When Prompto moved to stand, Noctis reached to help him up. They both swayed slightly from their drinks, and shared a little laugh as they stumbled in the grass. Their clumsy movements brought them close, and Noctis used it as an excuse to put his hands on Prompto, the latter guilty of the same. Grinning, he took the empty beer bottle from his hand and carried them both back to the cottage. The whole walk there, he rest his hand on the small of the florist's back, smiling somewhat whenever their shoulders touched.

The two of them were quiet as they ascended the stairs opposite Gladio and Ignis' room. They took turns with the bathroom and got ready for bed, and Prompto closed the door behind them both once they'd retreated to the bedroom.

Noctis turned on one of the bedside lamps before moving to the window and opening it slightly. The breeze caught the thin curtains, letting them gently unfurl and cast light shadows over the room. Prompto tossed his toiletries in his bag and stretched, still feeling a little lightheaded, but good. “Thanks for having me here,” he spoke up, watching Noct at the window.

“You've... been working really hard,” Noctis said with a shrug. “It's hard to spend time with you.”

Prompto's teeth toyed with his bottom lip. “I'm working because you hired me,” he reminded.

“I know, I just didn't expect...” The prince trailed off and gestured vaguely at Prompto.

“Expect what? Phone sex?”

“Yeah,” Noctis blurted. “That was. Uh. That was... _unexpected._ ”

The florist covered his face with his hands, groaning. “I shouldn't have started it. Totally... not cool.”

“N-no. No!” The sound of creaking floorboards as Noctis hurried over, grabbing Prompto's shoulder with one hand and his wrist with the other, gently lowering it so that he could look him in the eye. “I...” He glanced away, cheeks rosy in the dim light. “I wanted you to make the first move.”

The words came out in quick succession, mumbled in a way that Prompto had to strain to hear them.

“I guess I'm-- I thought if I dropped enough hints you'd take it. I didn't want you to think you had to, because I'm the Prince or something stupid like that. I wanted you to want--”

“I _do_ want...” Prompto cut off Noctis with his own, unfinished sentiment. “and not just because you're the prince.”

Noctis pulled back slightly, blinking back at Prompto with his sharp, bright eyes. His breath smelled a little bit like hops and wheat, but so did the florist's, so that was okay. He watched as Noctis smiled again, his lips curving into something dazzling and dangerous, an expression that made Prompto's knees week.

“This is like... so too much like a fairytale for it to be real,” Prompto mumbled, already brushing Noctis' lips with his own.

“Mhm,” Noctis' smile grew against Prompto's lips and he slid his hands up the front of his shirt, dragging them around to settle on bony hips. “This is just the first chapter. You've got the prince. In a few days you'll have the princess, too.”

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _your slightest look will easily unclose me_  
>  _though i have closed myself as fingers,_  
>  _you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens_ \-- somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond, e.e. cummings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just something quick because the last one was such a cliffy.
> 
> Uuh... I'm just tryin' to move the plot forward here. We're getting somewhere, I promise.

“You really think she'll like me?”

Noctis backed up towards the bed, hand still on Prompto's hips and bringing him along. “Who wouldn't?” he mumbled against warm lips. One hand slid up the curve of his spine, cupping the back of his head and keeping him close. The back of Nocts' knees hit the mattress and he sat down, smoothly tugging Prompto with him. The blond bent at the waist, giving chase while he rest a heavy hand on the prince's shoulder. Finally, they kissed for real, and it was so _so_ much more than Noctis could have hoped for. Fingers sank into Prompto's soft, windswept hair and curled, tugging just slightly while his tongue delved passed parted lips. He tasted beer, a faint undertone of tobacco, and mint toothpaste. The florist's slight weight bore down on him, warmth becoming heat.

Breathless, Prompto managed to pull away from Noctis long enough to reach over his shoulders and claw his shirt from his back. He stumbled a bit, tugging the offending garment over his head and tossing it aside. The breeze filtering in through the window caused goosebumps to blossom over his skin, but he flushed with pink heat from his cheeks to his chest when his eyes met the Prince's. Liquid courage had convinced him that now was the time to bare some insecurities.

Noctis drank in the brand new sight. His eyes, blue and grey as the smoke that coiled from Prompto's lips-- the lit end of his cigarettes, did a shameless once over. One finger curled beneath the waistband of his sweat pants and tugged him close again, the other slid to his hips. He followed the silvery line, a stretch mark spidery and delicate up up up until it faded into the expanse of Prompto's freckled complexion.

“What's this, mm?” Noctis teased, hooking his little finger into the silver ring pierced through the florist's left nipple-- a stupid thing he'd done once on a dare and had never bothered to take out. The prince tugged ever so gently and was rewarded with something between a wince and a moan from the vision standing before him.

Prompto huffed, wetting his lips and trying to play it off. He was at such a disadvantage now that Noctis knew one of his many weaknesses. “You know, when you're a teenager and... you do dumb shit for fun. Like... shoplifting.”

“Or getting dirty piercings?” Noctis raised a brow, pale lips curling into a devilish smile. He released the piercing only to thumb at the hardening, pink flesh. He turned the ring, then tugged again, stopping only when Prompto let out a hot, strangled puff of breath, a shudder raking through him.

“Mhm...” He agreed, moving in to close the distance between them again, aching to be near. As Prompto went in for another kiss, one hand cupping Noctis' cheek, the prince took hold of his slender wrist with one hand and took his jaw in the other.

“I have a better idea,” the prince's black lashes nearly kissed his cheeks, gaze heavy from alcohol. He pressed his thumb to Prompto's lips, smiling when he yielded, opened his mouth and sucked gently. “Good,” Noctis praised, pushing down on the blond's bare shoulder until he knelt between spread legs. “There...”

Prompto sighed, opening his mouth further and letting Noctis replace his thumb with two fingers. The prince hummed in approval and Prompto shuddered, whimpering quietly when the salty taste of Nocts' skin was taken away, only to have the wetness smeared across his bottom lip. He wavered, swooned with drunken heat and let his head rest against the inside of Noct's thigh. “I really just wanna...” He pawed at the prince's waistband and curled nimble fingers around the elastic, tugging.

The prince was already half hard and Prompto stole a glance upward, but was surprised to see that some of Noctis' confidence had diminished. “Hey,” he soothed, drawing out the word and nuzzling warm, bare skin. “I've got you, highness.”

“Y-yeah,” Noctis breathed, nodding and carding his fingers through Prompto's hair.

“Don't tell me,” Prompto purred. A thought struck him and he still peered up at the prince. “No one's ever...”

The prince shrugged, but his cheeks were red as blooming roses. Being a prince had been difficult when it came to forming relationships, especially serious ones. Since he was born, Noctis' entire life had been put under a microscope for the public to all be a part of. He'd fooled around before, but things usually ended sour. There was a lack of climactic fireworks, ulterior motives, bragging rights that came along with bedding royalty...

Needless to say, there was a lot of... _need_ built up. Sure, he had access to the internet. He had videos, pictures, and a basic idea of what he wanted, what made him tick, but Noctis was learning that there was a difference between forming an idea and actually acting on it.

But now, Prompto was here, licking his lips before pressing a sweet, yet filthy kiss to the head of Noctis' growing erection. “Lucky me. Lucky you, too.”

Noctis swore under his breath when Prompto took him in. One hand wrapped around the base of his cock while the other gripped the back of his t-shirt. The blond had raised himself up slightly, swallowing Noct down and then started a rhythm back and forth along his length. It was everything the prince could do not to thrust up, buck his hips and fuck Prompto's mouth ragged; he fought for some semblance of control, twisting fair hair in his fingers and pulling.

The florist moaned, eyelids fluttering until his lashes touched flushed cheeks. He pulled off of Noctis with a wet sound, only to lap greedily at the head, tasting sweat and heat as he licked a stripe down the underside. Beneath his hands, he felt the prince shudder, listened to the sounds of pleasure tumbling from his lips, using them as fuel.

“So damn good,” came the laboured words, followed by a string of nonsensical praise and sweetness.

Prompto squeezed Noctis' thigh and closed his lips over the head once more, swirling his tongue around the tip, making the prince good and wet before pulling away again.

“ _Prompto_ ,” Noctis groaned, obviously displeased with the absence of wet warmth, tugging him back down.

“Sshh,” Prompto cooed, pushing up the prince's shirt with his hands, leaving a wet trail of kisses in his wake. Eventually, he slipped into Noctis' lap, touching his flushed face and coaxing him into a messy kiss, panting softy into his mouth and letting their breath mingle.

Noctis' eyes fluttered open and his stomach flip flopped pleasantly at the sight of Prompto, hair a mess and drool coating his lips and chin. They hadn't even fucked yet and the both of them were already dishevelled wrecks. Noctis' could taste himself on his tongue, but he leaned forward still to catch the florist in another deep kiss, moaning as he did.

When they came up for air, Prompto draped himself over Noctis, his bare skin hot against the damp material of his shirt. “Fuck me, highness,” he drawled into the prince's ear, catching his teeth on the lobe and tugging.

The prince shivered, twisting around so that he could lay Prompto down. They parted long enough for Noctis to peel off his wet shirt and kick his pants off the rest of the way. He disentangled himself from the florist's lanky limbs long enough to stumble to his bag, where he fished out a small bottle of lube and tossed it onto the mattress. Prompto grabbed blindly for the bottle, popping the cap with his finger and thumb.

“C'mere,” Noctis growled, climbing back on the bed. He was spurred by Prompto's pleading, his concern from earlier melting away. He proved his volition by grabbing the florist's thigh, dragging him closer, fingers digging into taut flesh. The prince came down on him, fingers splayed over his slender throat, lips devouring the offering, teeth bared. He wanted to see purple and red bloom where he touched, wherever his lips and teeth caught on honeyed skin. The prince would leave a mark, stake his claim by bruising soft, velvet petals.

* * *

Prompto slept incredibly well, waking once the sun had angled through the window, fingers of gold warming bare skin. He breathed in fresh air from the still open window, mouth dry from drinking beer, tasting undoubtedly like the prince. He laughed a little to himself, pushing himself up on his arms with a grunt before rolling onto his back. Prompto let the white sheets swallow him up a little while longer, he felt a bit tender all over, but loose and lazy; senses alight at slide of clean cotton against bare skin.

When he was ready to get up, the florist stretched his arms high over his head. He was still naked, bare and white all over save for the tight leather binding around one wrist, the purple blooming over his thighs, his hips and collar.

He took his time showering and dressing, puttered around the room while he brushed his teeth. He checked the charge on his camera, lingering by the window and pushing away billowing curtains to glance out at the cape below. A figure stood on the bluffs, casting a line into the water, his face and hair concealed by a cap. Noct had... gotten up early to go fishing?

Prompto closed his teeth around his toothbrush, and aimed the camera through the window, catching Noctis in the frame.

He left his room to find a brewing pot of coffee and two clean mugs set on the counter. Unsure at first, he approached the tantalizing offering, inhaled the earthy scent of brew. The house seemed empty, but--

The sound of Gladio's rumbling laughter came from the porch, the creak of wood creeping through the open window as the man sat forward in his chair. Prompto crossed the room and headed towards the sound, opening the front door and pushing his upper body through, gripping the peeling frame.

“Heya,” he greeted, lifting a hand and waving to both Gladio and Ignis, who were taking their coffee on the porch like two content retirees or something. Cute.

“Hey,” Gladio greeted, apparently not too hung over.

Ignis, who'd set down his coffee and was removing his glasses to clean them, glanced his way. “Help yourself to coffee. Perhaps take a cup to his highness if you're feeling so inclined.”

The florist stiffened, heat rising to his cheeks. He slapped one hand over his abused neck and nodded before hurrying back inside. Only then, while he was pouring the coffee did he let out an exasperated breath, brow creased deeply with embarrassment, heart hammering in his chest. Gods, he felt as if he was being silently scolded by a mother and father he never really had.

* * *

 

“No—oct,” he called from over the sound of waves cresting on the bluffs. He picked his way across the rocky expanse, balancing the hot drinks in his hands and finally reaching the flat outcropping Noctis had picked as his fishing spot.

Noctis turned, easing up on the line a little, reaching out with one hand to grab Prompto's wrist and steady him, then relieve him of one of the mugs. “'Morning,” he greeted. His voice was gravelly with sleep's weight, despite him having woken earlier than the florist. He thanked Prompto for the coffee and took a sip before setting it down on the rocks, finding a spot where he could safely wedge the rod between a small crack in the formation. He shucked off his vest, a puffy windbreaker and spread it out over the rocks. “Sit,” he offered.

“Thanks.”

Prompto took the offered seat and sipped his coffee, taking in the view of the ocean, miles of uninterrupted blue and white. Once he'd downed enough of the rich drink to warm himself inside and out, he reached for his camera. “Do you mind, Noct?” He asked, holding up to the device.

“Nawh.” The Prince was letting the line troll, brow furrowed in deep concentration. He didn't look away from his line. “As long as it's just you.”

* * *

 

Noctis caught a fresh bass, and Ignis fried it up expertly for their lunch. They ate, talked and Prompto suggested they take a photo in front of the impressive lighthouse. The four of them posed while the florist set up his camera and tripod, giving them the thumbs up once the lighting was right and the timer had been set before hurrying over to join them. Noctis unashamedly threw an arm around Prompto's shoulders and smiled wide.

Before the afternoon grew too late, Gladio and Ignis packed the car and Prompto had time to take some photos of the cliff side, and the flowers clinging to it's walls. The sun was positioned so that everything cast long, spidery shadows, Prompto's favourite time for outdoor shots. Noctis lingered somewhere nearby, plucking Lantana in shades of white, orange, gold and purple. He wanted to send some to Luna before she arrived. Prompto had given his wild bouquet a grade of approval and said he'd press them in wax paper once they got back to Insomnia.

* * *

 

“Mm, just drop me off at the shop,” Prompto insisted. He really didn't like the idea of the prince seeing where he lived, especially if they were driving there in the Regalia and his entire retinue was in tow.

“If you say so,” Noctis shrugged.

“I do say so,” Prompto sang, good-naturedly. “You guys took two solid workdays from me and now I've gotta pick up the slack. I've got zero time to be lazy, now.”

Gladio moved up in his seat, grinning. “Noct, why can't you be more like Prompto, huh?”

Before Prompto could get out of the car, Noctis grabbed his shoulder, pulling his flailing limbs back into the dark safety of tinted windows and a closed roof. “See ya,” he cooed, pressing a quick kiss to pink lips before letting go.

The florist was burning up, struggling not to make eye-contact with Gladio or Ignis as he practically flew from the vehicle.

“That was hardly appropriate,” Ignis scolded, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

The Shield just slapped Noctis on the back, nearly knocking the wind out of him. “'Atta boy,” he praised.

* * *

 

The next few days went by in a blur. Prompto worked tirelessly, counting down the days until Lady Luna's arrival. He'd made good progress, he'd managed to keep up with his exercise and proper diet, and Noctis texted him every once in awhile to remind him to take breaks when he was tired. Sometime before the Oracle's arrival, Prompto received packages at the storefront by courier. He frowned, not thinking that he'd ordered anything for the shop (unless Ceres had), but signed for the packages anyway and brought them inside. The true black packaging should have been a clue, tucked beneath the silver ribbon holding the lid secure was a small black envelope embossed with the Royal Lucian seal. Curious, he opened the letter with a pair of shears.

> _Mr. Prompto Argentum,_
> 
> _His Highness, Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum CXIV formally requests--_

Prompto barely scanned the letter, blue eyes opening wide as the words sank in. Enclosed in the envelope was a black key card, and a piece of ID with his name and photo on it. Kind of creepy, but... Alright. The florist realized that the ID card would get him into the Citadel for his consultation with Luna regarding her bouquet, and also allow him to see the halls he would be setting up his arrangements in. The other card, unassuming black and silver, outfitted with a microchip would apparently... give him access to Noctis' private apartment. _Holy shit_. The keycard felt warm in his hands and he had to put it down.

Hesitant, yet nimble fingers plucked the lid from the box and Prompto was floored by what lay folded neatly inside. A suit for the wedding, as well as three new outfits specially designed for him to wear when he was visiting the Citadel. Garments much more refined than anything a refugee could afford, primarily coloured in Lucian black, baring the royal crest. He was a little overwhelmed, yet grateful that he didn't have to show up to meet with royalty dressed in what... His florist's apron? Again, Prompto felt too hot in his own skin, undeserving of such a gesture. It was a boost of confidence that he needed, and Noctis had given it to him like it was nothing. Not only that, the florist couldn't remember the last time he'd received a gift.

Prompto had to put the lid back on, lest he ruin the expensive fabrics with tears.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It’s there I replace your face with flowers_  
>  _Sow seed in the hem of your dress_  
>  _In glowing favor you’ll bloom_  
>  _So I can scatter you around the room_  
>  \-- Redwood, Foxing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just another quick update before shit hits the fan lol

“Ignis...”

Noctis sighed, exasperated and determined on avoiding the conversation. He lounged on the couch, bringing the pastry to his lips and taking a bite. It was good; warm and fluffy, the fruit filling rich and tangy. The prince set the treat back down on the plate and wiped at his mouth with the back of his arm, garnering a grunt of disapproval from the advisor.

“Highness, I am merely doing my job. I'm trying to--”

“Yeah, I know.”

By now, Ignis had turned away, returning into the kitchen area to check on the brewing coffee. Fancying it ready, he pushed down on the french press, applying a slow and even pressure. His back to Noctis, he retrieved two mugs from the overhead cupboards and began to pour.

“I am simply suggesting that he may not be who he says he is,” the advisor continued sternly, whether or not Noctis was willing to listen. “No one sponsored his immigration here, Argentum is not his given surname-- in fact, he hasn't even legally changed it despite making use of it. You choose to allow him close to you without knowing his true intentions, Noct.”

The prince shook his head and leaned forward, folding his hands, knees falling apart. “Ignis,” he drawled. “Do you think someone would chose to live the way we treat refugees? I know it's nice to pretend that everyone in the city is happy, but c'mon. I'm not stupid. So, he changed his name without filling out some paperwork! He's probably just... I don't know, trying to protect himself?”

Coffee mugs in hand, Ignis made his way to the couch and offered Noctis his drink before taking a seat next to him. There was something both admirable and foolish in the way his prince vouched for the good in people. Noctis harboured unrealistic ideas of change on occasion, but his heart was in the right place. Once he learned caution, he would become a great king.

“Then highness,” Ignis said, pausing to sip from his mug. “Let him do what he thinks he must do. In the meantime, allow me to protect you. I am hardly trying to keep you apart, merely hoping that you'll take caution where it is due.”

* * *

Prompto had stood in front of his mirror for quite awhile, turning this way and that. He wanted to see all of himself, he didn't care if he was being a little bit vain. Luna had arrived two days ago and had already been all over the news. She held an audience with those who sought out her wisdom and magic, and formally toured Insomnia with her retainers all in tow. Today, Prompto would meet just after her fitting, they'd talk about her bouquet and what she wanted in terms of wedding floral. So, the florist had packed the things he'd need into a worn case baring Argentum's name and dressed himself in some of the clothing Noctis had sent to him.

It was a little more formal than what he was used to, but Prompto needed to make a good first impression on Luna and her retinue. This was also his first trip to the Citadel, and he would be visiting quite frequently once the wedding drew nearer. He would definitely have to phone Celes and talk about his pay, since the wedding fees were finally pouring in; Prompto knew he'd have to go out and reconfigure his entire wardrobe pretty soon.

He adjusted his shirt, a deep red coloured button up that was silky to the touch and then pulled the lightweight, black sweater over top. Prompto fixed the collar so that it sat outside the sweater's neckline and folded the cuffs over the sleeves. The sweater bore a small breast pocket, the Lucian sigil embroidered into the fabric, the florist thought it was a nice touch. He'd pulled on the black pants, noting their dull shine and the soft material that hugged him unbelievably well. More than anything, Prompto liked the final gift he'd found tucked at the bottom of the box, cradled safely in a smaller box. Two pins struck in black and silver, illustrating blooming roses and joined together by a silver chain. The finishing touch to the outfit; one rose pinned either side of his collar, the chain dipping beneath his throat and catching the light. Ready to go, Prompto pulled on his leather wristband, checking to make sure it was snug before he headed out the door.  
  
Upon reaching the Citadel, Prompto presented his identification and was lead to a large drawing room.

The Citadel followed the same decoration throughout each of it's massive rooms. Stark black, white, silver and gold with the occasional splash of the same blood red as the florist's new shirt decorated marble floors and high ceilings. Prompto took a seat on a plush, unoccupied chaise and waited with his things, finding the sliding door to his left much more interesting than the grandiose room he sat in. Through the glass, he had a marvellous view of the royal gardens, and he kept himself busy by identifying the flora stretching out over the meticulously landscaped grounds. He wondered, maybe once this was all over... Maybe he could ask for a job tending to the plants there. He could be closer to Noctis, he stood a chance at making a decent wage.

Then again... Mr. Argentum wanted so badly to retire, and Prompto couldn't leave behind the legacy of a man who had taken him in.

“Mr. Argentum?” The door opened and the florist moved to stand. “Follow me please.”

Prompto was lead by the attendant through a long, straight hallway where she paused at one door near the end and opened it for him. The florist thanked her with a slight bow and then stepped inside. He was greeted by a group of attendants who flit about around the Oracle herself. Lady Luna, dressed in what she would wear on her wedding, the most gorgeous person Prompto had ever seen in his entire life. Her gown was pristine, clean and white, fabric swaying like liquid as the attendants fussed over the fit and the length. In the corner of the room, two dogs lounged on the plush carpet; one black, the other white.

“I believe that's enough for now,” Luna spoke, nodding gracefully and thanking the women who had dressed her. Prompto had the slightest feeling that the Oracle's lyrical voice could move mountains, melt glaciers. He watched in silence as the attendants bowed and moved past him on their way out.

Now, the room played host to only the Oracle, the florist and two women who Prompto had seen before in photos and on the news. There was the woman with skin paler than snow, her dark hair cascading down her shoulders like a waterfall. She stepped forward in her ornate shoes and touched the Oracle's shoulder, whispering something unheard to her before taking her leave as well, paying Prompto no mind.

  
The other woman had silvery hair tied into a neat knot at the back of her head and fastened with a simple black ribbon. She had the build of a fighter and was dressed as if she'd just been to the gym. “I'll be right outside,” she said with a nod to the Oracle. Before leaving, she brought a chair forward and helped Luna sit down without creasing her gown. On her way out, she scrutinized Prompto with pursed, ruby lips and violet eyes. Lady Luna's guard, no doubt.  
  
Prompto hurried to get in another bow, but he held his breath until the woman was gone.

“...You must be the one Noctis wrote about.”

Luna's voice drifted, her words wrapping around him warmly, too soft to cause him to start. He flushed at the idea of the prince mentioning him in his letters to her, but nodded and offered a deep bow.

“Call me Prompto,” he managed, taking another breath before he crossed the room and set down his case. He found it difficult to look at her. Photographs couldn't capture her resplendence. It really was something to be in the presence of the Oracle herself, not to mention having her expect him nonetheless. Sure, Prompto had become comfortable with Noctis, but at the end of the day he was just... a florist, a refugee, a deserter. He'd never thought that he'd be in the position to meet someone blessed by The Six.

“Lady Luna, uhm--” He paused, blue eyes wide with surprise as Luna reached up to touch his freckled cheeks. She smiled and Prompto couldn't help but relax. Like magic, his nerves lost their edge and he let himself be pulled in, senses swimming in the scent of Luna's perfume, an open meadow dotted with endless Sylleblossoms in an eternal sea of green. He bent like a frail blade of grass and leaned into the touch as if he was starved.

She smiled and it reached her pale blue eyes. Prompto thought of dewdrops at spring's dawning when he looked into them. He smiled too. “Noctis really did write about me, huh?”

“Of course,” the Oracle replied with a polite laugh, thumb tracing his jaw. “But it hardly compares to meeting you, at last.”

Prompto nodded slowly to show he understood, but he was still caught up in whatever spell she'd put him under, hand coming up to rest upon the back of hers, “I could say the same,” he nearly whispered.

“I'm told you've brought me something,” she said kindly, removing her hand and instead looking to the case Prompto had all but abandoned.

“Y-yeah. I mean, yes. Yes. Right, uhm.”

The florist made use of a nearby table, opening his case and pulling out a binder and a notebook. “I was given some mockups of your dress and I'm working on your bouquet. I thought we could talk about the shape first.” Prompto spoke fast, attempting to calm the blush of his cheeks and the staccato rhythm of his heart. He opened the notebook and pulled up a chair beside Luna, the sound of it sliding against the floor piquing the dogs' interest from where they both lounged.

“Your dress is beautiful, and I don't want to detract from it. So... I tried to narrow it down, see?” He presented Luna with some photographic examples, watching her run her slender, manicured fingers over the glossy paper.

“This one is cascading.” Prompto pointed out the way the bouquet seemed to flow like a waterfall from the base. “The Sylleblossoms would bend nicely if we paired them with vines, but it's a busy bouquet. It might be a bit much?”

Luna hummed, thinking on it. “It does seem as if we're overdoing it, darling. I understand what you mean. Perhaps something more simple?”

“Well,” Prompto suggested, ducking his head at the term of endearment and tucking strands of stray blond behind his ear. “Sylleblossoms are wildflowers, we should present them that way. Maybe we can tie a few with ribbon, add some more green, some white baby's breath to fill in the gaps...” The florist turned to another sketch and dared a glance at the Oracle, teeth catching his bottom lip.

“Baby's breath is white. Perhaps some colour instead,” Luna suggested. “Those beautiful flowers you and Noctis sent to me from the cape. Could we add those in as well? I want... to think about the prince, too.”

“O-oh. The Lantanas? O-of course. Yes. They bloom in yellow and orange, which compliments blue, so...” Prompto reached for his things, producing his art supplies and reaching for the book. In bright yellow and orange, he added in the seafaring blossoms to the proposed arrangement. “It'll stand out, too-- From the rest of the flowers.”

The Oracle smiled and spoke again. “Noctis said in his letter that these flowers only grow near the sea. It's fitting, that you and I have crossed oceans to be here with the prince.”

Prompto couldn't help but smile, remembering the first and last time he'd crossed the ocean; the train speeding through Tenebrae and engraving the image of a Sylleblossom in his mind forever. “Yeah,” he agreed.

The two of them spoke a little bit more and eventually Prompto suggested that Luna might be more comfortable changing out of her wedding dress, that maybe they could take a walk in the garden since they were talking about flowers anyway. “I bet you've been busy since you got here,” he added, feeling a little more at ease once she agreed. “Why don't we take a day off?”

The florist gathered his things and left them on the table and Luna nodded towards another doorway, opposite the one he'd entered to the room from. Prompto helped her to her feet, then gathered the excess fabric of her gown, the material silky and smooth over his rough fingers. The two of them made their way to Luna's bedroom, and Prompto (with no shortages of hesitant glances or 'excuse me's) helped her out of the gown and returned it carefully, delicately to the dress-form it would stay on until the big day.

Luna slid into a shorter, form-fitting white dress and low, dainty heels. Lace curled over her shoulders and brushed against her collarbones. Prompto, fingers nimble and skilled from weaving stems and leaves into complex arrangements had her sit while he unpinned her hair, shaking out the ashen locks. He plaited a river of light blonde over her shoulder into a loose-fitting braid. The florist's hands only shook slightly when he zipped up the back of her dress, feeling as if he didn't deserve the slight curve of her spine, her skin emitting the moon's pale glow.

“Better?” He asked, offering his arm.

“Much,” she replied with a smile, planting a light kiss high on Prompto's cheekbone.

Prompto escorted Luna to the hall, two dogs at their heels. Before they left, he took her jacket with them just in case, folding it neatly over his free arm.

“Aranea,” Luna spoke to the silver-haired woman still posted at the door. “Prompto and I are taking Umbra and Pryna to the garden. You're dismissed for the day. Thank you.”

* * *

When they stepped into the garden, Umbra and Pryna ran freely ahead and Prompto gently slid Luna's jacket over her bare shoulders. The spring hadn't completely given way to summer just yet, and he didn't want her to get cold.

“Noctis didn't mention how charming you are,” she almost teased, one hand curling around his bicep.

“Well, what did he tell you about me, then?” Prompto asked with a huff. “I bet you only bad stuff.”

Lunafreya laughed. “Oh yes. His complaints about you are beginning to grate on me, Prompto. You'd best start behaving now that I've arrived.”

The sun felt good against Prompto's freckled skin, and the two of them took their time touring the grounds. The florist showed off a little bit, hoping to impress Luna with his knowledge of the flowers growing among them, sighing wistfully at blooms and vines he'd never seen this close up before.

The Oracle thought it was endearing, to see someone be so passionate about one thing. She could have listened to the boy go on all afternoon, drawn in by his expressive features, bright and curious eyes. He was animated, gesturing wildly with his hands as he spoke, clearly speaking from the heart. Even when he spoke about something as trivial as gardening, his words were raw and stripped of embellishments. Prompto spoke plainly, his heart having much more of a hand in things than any other part of him.

“I'd like to see where you work,” Luna requested during a brief bout of silence. “It's difficult for me to move around the city, but before the wedding, or after I suppose...”

Her gentle voice trailed off and Prompto lead the two of them to a nearby bench. “Sure thing,” he said, taking both her hands in his as they sat. “Whenever you want; the door's always open.”

The florist grinned now, opening his mouth to say something else when suddenly he was interrupted.

“That's my fiancee,” a familiar voice rumbled from the direction of the sunset. Noctis, dressed to the nines in the same suit Prompto had first seen him in, dress shoes clicking against cobblestone as he approached the two of him. The florist assumed he'd been with his father, or taking care of whatever princely business he'd needed to take care of, being dressed the way he was. Either way, he looked impeccable, if maybe a little young for the sharpness of the suit.

Prompto stood up, grinning playfully at the prince. “We're having a private tour of the garden, and you sir, are interrupting.” He swayed a bit, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. Without even realizing it, he was waiting for Noctis to acknowledge that he'd worn the clothing he'd sent, feeling something warm and welcome burst inside his chest when the prince murmured in his ear, _you look nice_ before placing a kiss to the soft spot there, just before his hairline. Noctis smelled like expensive cologne and something else distinctly himself, a crisp and clear evening.

Then, Noctis moved to Luna, bending to meet her and touching her chin. He smiled, and Prompto's heart tightened at what he saw. He wondered, would they ever look at him the way they looked at each other? It was... indescribable; two people meant for each other, connected on some deep level that went beyond future King and Oracle. They kissed, and Prompto had to look away, cheeks burning. He'd said he wanted this, and he knew that he did... But that didn't mean that there wouldn't be work.

Reaching up, he ran his palms over his face to clear his head, pausing mid motion when Luna touched his arm. “Are you alright, Prompto?” The worry was punctuated by the slightest crease of her brow, and Noctis wore that same expression.

“Yes,” Prompto assured, bowing his head. “I'm just... Y'know. I'm wearing _really_ fancy clothes. Feels weird.”

* * *

Luna wasn't permitted to leave the Citadel as of yet. Soon, Imperial guests would begin arriving for the wedding and the treaty signing, and King Regis had thought it best to have her close. She had, however insisted that Noctis and Prompto didn't make a fuss over her and that she would be alright if they decided to return home. “I have Umbra and Pryna,” she teased. “I don't need two more little pups at my heels,” she teased before kissing them both, one at a time. She fixed Noctis' hair and smoothed Prompto's collar with her delicate touch. Both young men stood up straight and tried to look as if they'd earned those little affections. “Aranea and Gentiana will look after me, and so will the King.”

* * *

“You sure it's okay?”

Prompto tipped his head back against the ledge of the bathtub, smoke curling from his lips. The tub in Noctis' apartment was glorious. A deep, claw-footed antique smack dab in the middle of the room. The large windows facing east wide open and allowing the night air to spill in while Prompto's cigarette smoke drifted out in coils of blue and grey. “I can smoke outside like I always do.”  
  
Noctis shrugged, half-asleep with his back against the florist's freckled chest, his head tucked in the hollow of his throat. “As long as the window's open, whatever. Plus, you look kind of hot.”

“Kind of?” Prompto frowned, looking down at the prince. “Ouch.”

The florist could feel Noctis smile against his skin, shivering when Noct dragged his teeth along whatever flesh he could reach. “Mmhm... You and Luna got along,” he breathed, sounding pleased.  
  
“Yeah.” Prompto took another drag from his cigarette, holding the smoke in his lungs, chest rising under the prince's frame. “She's...”  
  
“Hard to describe,” Noctis supplied. “Like the light moves with her.”

Prompto exhaled loudly, expelling the smoke from his lungs before pressing his lips to the top of Noctis' head. “The moon gets her light from the sun,” he murmured. “You two were meant for each other.”  
  
The florist let his arm dangle from the edge of the tub, ashing his cigarette into the bowl Noctis had placed there, dropping what was left of it and then sliding his now free hand around the prince's waist. He felt Noctis twist around underneath his touch, straddling him now and facing him. His eyes were vivid, ardent and teeming with something Prompto couldn't place.

“Don't sell yourself short,” he commanded, words heavy with royal undertone. Then, he reached for Prompto, sliding a dripping finger up his submerged chest, tracing the vulnerable softness of his throat and tipping his jaw so that their eyes had to meet. “Don't think that you'll mean any less,” he breathed. His voice was softer now, but his expression stayed stern. “You're mine, and we're hers and she's ours just as much.”

“...R-right,” Prompto began slowly, nodding. “Yours. I... mean. Luna's, too. I'll... be good enough.”

Noctis tipped his head, and he was tender when he kissed Prompto's tobacco flavoured lips.

“Think what you want, but you're good enough for me. Good enough for us.”

The blond let his arms loop around Noctis' neck. There was no way he could contest that kind of sincerity. He knew Noctis well enough to know that he guarded his emotions well, the idea that he was opening up meant that he was telling the truth.

“I miss her,” he admitted. “We should have stayed.”

The prince laughed. “Yeah. Well. I feel kind of bad for when she has to put up with us every day,” he joked.

Prompto groaned, slapping Noctis' arm. “Be good to her, Noctis Lucis Caelum, or I swear...”

“You swear what?” The prince teased, covering Prompto's mouth with his own before he could even answer.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _There are violets in your eyes_  
>  _There are guns that blaze around you_  
>  _There are roses in between my thighs_  
>  _And a fire that surrounds you_  
>  \-- Honeymoon by Lana Del Rey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Thanks for making it this far, everyone! As usual, nothing is beta'd so there might be mistakes.  
> If you wanna hang out on the internet, you can find me [at mvgitek on tumblr](http://mvgitek.tumblr.com)

* * *

“Again, Prompto!” 

The florist groaned, wiping sweat from his brow. He was exhausted, but he still managed to push himself back up onto his feet and heft the weapon over his shoulder. The blond was used to frequent, light exercise, but the new training regiment he'd started with the prince's Shield was more rigorous than any basic workout plan. Still, in between his work on the floral arrangements and the time he spent lazing around Noctis' apartment, he was determined to put on a bit of muscle, and keep up with his regular physical activity. Besides, the Citadel would soon be host to Imperial guests. If something were to go awry, Prompto wanted to be able to protect himself, but more importantly; protect Noctis and Luna. 

Gladio grinned, brandishing his practice blade and gesturing for Prompto to come at him. “You gotta stop smoking, blondie,” he teased.

Prompto wheezed, laughing breathlessly as he swung his own blade, planning his next charge. Gladio was right, maybe. Muscles coiled, he flew across the grounds and swung. The Shield easily deflected, sidestepping the blow and rapping Prompto smartly on the back.

“Fuck!” 

The smaller man stumbled, but swung around again. His blade collided with Gladio's, the sound of wood cracking and splintering at the impact. Prompto grunted, arms shuddering with the strain of pushing back. However, he couldn't win against Gladio in a test of strength.

“Okay. Okay,” he gasped, easing up on the blade, sweat beading on his skin again. It felt good to fight, long dormant reflexes awakening, but Prompto knew he has to keep himself in check.

Gladio yielded, lowering his blade and tossing it to the ground with a clatter. He ruffled Prompto's hair and laughed, but not unkindly. “Go take a shower,” he grunted. “You're light on your feet, and we've gotta play to your strengths. As far as weapons go, I think we'll stick to the shooting range for you.”

Prompto panted, but he was smiling and he nodded enthusiastically. The first time Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis had taken him to the shooting range, he'd enjoyed it. There was something about firing the gun that had made him feel powerful, useful even. Guns were familiar to him from his time in Gralea, but he didn't want to leave any hints. All of his feigned ignorance didn't stop Ignis from commenting on his good aim.

“Thanks, Gladio.”

The florist held out a fist, and Gladio bumped their closed knuckles together.

“Anytime, kid.”

* * *

Once he'd showered, Prompto changed into something more appropriate for the start of his workday. A black, loose fitting tank top with a studded, distressed vest to go over top. He wriggled into black pants and tightened his belt before slipping on shiny, pointed boots. Before he shouldered his bag, Prompto made sure that his rapidly growing collection of wristbands were secure, covering what they were supposed cover.

Today, he would start moving arrangements into the Citadel's chapel and Great Hall.

Earlier this morning, before he'd met Gladio for training, Prompto had driven over the completed arrangements the in the store's little delivery truck. The King had offered him the services of two attendants, who were indispensable in the task of helping him move the large vases and planters. It was still too early to bring in the wreaths, garlands and cut flowers, but anything still potted would find a new home inside the Citadel's great walls, among statues and paintings of The Six, depicting a religion which Prompto only knew the bare bones about. The Astrals, and the Kings of Old were stuff of stories passed down by Lucian people and citizens of Tennebrae. Although the Astrals were very real, they were not revered so much in Niflheim and it was no secret that many years ago, the Empire had actually murdered the Glacian in their mad quest for power.

Prompto didn't like thinking about that. He never felt comfortable thinking back on how he narrowly escaped Gralea. Not to mention the horrors of what would have awaited him there had he stayed any longer.

The Chapel was quiet, even though the Citadel bustled with attendants and servants, the halls alight with people rushing to prepare for the arrival of Imperial guests, making sure they stayed confined to the parts of the building they were permitted to roam. Prompto had overheard that Luna would be moved out of the Citadel soon, for her own protection.

Once the heavy lifting was complete, Prompto dismissed the two attendants, shuffled uncomfortably as they bowed to him and shook his head. “Please. That's not really...”

He watched them go and turned to the altar, the large doors of the chapel creaking shut and solidifying that he was alone. Prompto took a breath, glancing out the massive floor to ceiling window that overlooked the royal gardens. The Chapel was looming. Murals and statues of The Six passed judgment on the small young man, even as he tended to the violet blooms that he supposed he was planting here in their honour just as much as he was doing it for Luna and Nocts'. Still, there was something oddly comforting about the golden sun streaming through the windows, how vibrant the Sylleblossoms looked when they caught the light. Outside, the greenery beckoned, surrounding the entire space in a calm illusion wrapped in stillness and silence.

The whole room was illuminated by sunlight through stained glass along the sides of the room, depicting scenes of elder Kings and past Oracles. Prompto tried to follow the stories, recognized the images of sacred weapons wielded by Lucian royalty, unsure about the gruesome-looking panels showing a man shrouded in darkness, Daemons clawing at his heels.

“Pretty macabre to get married in front of,” Prompto observed with a whistle. _Maybe they'll knock it out one day to put up a picture of Noct and Luna_. He laughed to himself, thinking that Noctis might shrink at the idea of a whole stain glass window made in his likeness. Then again, he's probably have to get his portrait done at some point, and news cameras would be all over the wedding.

Satisfied with the planters, (two set on either side of the large doors, six at the altar before the statue of Bahamut, an offering to the Hexatheon and one on either side of each row of pews). Eventually, garlands and wreaths would adorn the pulpit, the balcony rail where the organ rested, and the sills of each brilliant window. While Prompto stood at Bahamut's feet, fingers gently tilting one concerning bloom this way and that, he wondered if he was supposed to say a prayer. He'd been standing here for so long anyway, intruding on a silent, sacred place where he knew he had no business being.

Bright eyes squinted up through a shock of blond at the looming Draconian, it gripped a great sword in sharp claws and massive wings sprouted from it's back. Prompto felt a little humbled, glancing away and taking in the rest of the statues. Shiva's grace, Leviathan's fierce beauty, Titan's strength, Ramuh's wisdom, and Ifrit... The florist wondered if they kept his likeness erect out of fear rather than reverence.

 _Should he say a prayer_? Prompto had always considered himself grateful for making it this far, and yet it scared him to think that no matter what he did, his life was still so small and insignificant. He was still bound to the whims of something greater, to Gods. To his past, even a little bit to Noctis and Luna. Maybe, he thought as he gripped the edge of the planter, that this was what he was made for. Maybe his place wasn't anything more than just here, standing by their sides. Where someone more selfish might have rejected the idea, Prompto was complacent. Just knowing he could love and in turn be wanted was more than enough. He'd never asked for a great destiny. He'd never asked for royalty, or dreams, or more than he could afford, but--

The florist sniffed, turning his head to his shoulder and taking a deep, shuddering breath. How could he even stay with Noctis and Luna after the wedding? How long could he lie to their faces about his past? Prompto lift his arm, glancing down at his wrist and hooking one finger beneath the cluster of black leather there. How did he even know that he was still himself? That he was _human_?

Was there a point to praying if you had no soul to save?

A creak as the great doors to the Chapel were pushed open. The sound had Prompto wipe his eyes and turn his head, frowning as he looked over his shoulder. Footsteps echoed as the intruder stepped forward, wrapped in swaths of soft grey fabric that billowed around him as he glided up the aisle.

“Forgive me, I didn't mean to intrude, but I couldn't help but overhear that the wedding preparations have already begun. I simply _could not wait_.”

The florist turned all the way around, bright eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion. He didn't trust the tone of voice echoing dramatically and mocking off of holy walls.

“You must be one of the Imperials,” Prompto managed, a little perturbed that King Regis would allow his... guests to roam the corridors so freely.

“Now, now. Don't be shy. I hear the word _Niff_ whispered so freely behind my back by the rest of the servants. I don't mind terribly being called it to my face.”

Prompto tried not to react to being called a servant, but he supposed that the stranger wasn't so far off-- he _was_ employed by the crown, so he let it slide.

“I wouldn't--”

“Of course you wouldn't slander your _own_ ,” the stranger cut off, voice gentle and almost patronizing.

Prompto couldn't hide his surprise, hand flying to his opposite wrist and gripping tightly behind his back. The man continued his approach until he was making his way up the altar's steps. His hair, the colour of rusted blood and eyes like mined amber. The florist couldn't help the cursory bolt of recognition that cropped up in his brain. The memory hit him hard, causing him to step back slightly and entertain a wave of sudden nausea.

“You don't remember me, do you?”

Ardyn. The name presented itself in Prompto's mind from a place he had no idea existed. A gloved hand shot out to steady the paling boy, gripping his chin between his thumb and fingers. A crooked smile splintered his unshaven features, revealing pearly wolf's teeth.

“It's a wonder you ended up here, of all places. Kneeling at Lucian bedsides now, are we?”

“Ardyn?” Prompto felt dizzy, but the chancellor (yes, that's what he was called) held him fast.

“Oh. Very _good_.”

“Mmh...”

* * *

“Prompto, darling...”

Something cold was being pressed against his forehead, and Prompto found the sensation heavenly. His senses were filled with the smell of flowers, Sylleblooms and fresh greenery carried in by a gentle breeze. He groaned, wanting to sleep a little longer, instinctively swatting at the gentle hands touching his face and neck.

“Nngn... C'mon,” he grunted.

A small, cautious laugh and then the cool dampness was removed. “You're alright,” came the sigh of relief. Prompto's eyelids fluttered open and he was met with Luna's kind, ethereal features.

“Luna!” He gasped, jumping into a sitting position. He looked around, frantic until soft hands touched both his cheeks. “Hush, Prompto,” she soothed. “You're at Prince Noctis'. When some of the attendants found you passed out in the Chapel, I arranged for them to bring you here. The prince doesn't know, he's still with his Father.”

Prompto's breathing eventually slowed as he took in the Oracle's words. She pressed the damp cloth to his sweat-slicked skin, cooling his forehead, cheeks and throat with it.

“You were having a bit of a fit,” she whispered, concerned. “Perhaps your training with Mr. Amicitia is too much.”

Luna removed the cloth and replaced it with her hand and Prompto hesitated, an echo of praise in Ardyn's mocking baritone made him flinch. He squashed the memory of the chapel in an instant and sighed, leaning into Luna's touch instead.

“I'm okay,” he said with a smile, meeting her pale eyes. “I didn't eat breakfast and yeah, I kinda pushed myself with Gladio before working.”

Lunafreya backed off slightly so that Prompto had some breathing room. “Hmm. Maybe we're working you too hard.”

Prompto held his hands up and shook his head. “No. No. Never,” he hurried to say. “You guys could never...”

He didn't want to bring up Ardyn. Not to Luna. She and Noctis had more important things to worry about than his muddled past with the Empire and he doubted anything would happen inside Noctis' apartment. Sometimes, Prompto thought it was more heavily guarded than the Citadel itself.

“Well, tonight you'll be getting rest. It's quite unconventional, which is why it's probably for my best interest, but I'll be staying here before the wedding. King Regis is nervous having me in the Citadel while there are so many Imperial Councilmen residing there. The last place anyone would look for me is my future husband's home.” She paused then to laugh, and the sound made Prompto's heart skip a beat. “Like I said, it's unconventional, but to preserve some of the... sanctity of things, Noctis will be staying at the Citadel.”

Prompto nodded, but his thoughts were now back to when he'd left for Cape Caem with Ignis and Gladio. Noctis staying at the Citadel might also mean that he wanted time with his father. Perhaps the King really was as ill as the Prince let on.

He must have looked upset, for Luna was now reaching for him again, taking his hand. “Let's put on something comfortable and get you some food,” she suggested. “You were so helpful to me the other day, now let me take care of you, dear heart.”

The name made Prompto's chest tighten, but he nodded slowly and then leaned forward, daring to steal a kiss from her soft lips.

Luna smiled, acquiescing and bringing her hand up to the back of his head, letting her manicured nails gently drag across the nape of his neck, causing him to shiver.

* * *

Prompto was nothing short of a delight.

Luna sat on the couch with the blond boy while he spoke about his days working at the auto shop in Lestallum and some of the more... eccentric travellers he'd met as they passed through. They ate fast food that he'd ordered (soft noodles fried with spices, meat and vegetables) and drank some wine from Noctis' stash. _He'd said that he's ours, so that means his stuff is ours too, Luna._

Dressed in one of Noctis' shirts, Luna's slender legs curled beneath her while she sipped from her glass. Prompto, who was already set to piling her hair up in a loose bun, had stopped talking for a moment to ask for the elastic band.

“Gonna tie it off now,” he explained as Luna handed him the small, silver hairpiece.

“You're very good at this,” she said with a smile. “Where did you learn?”

Prompto shrugged. “Well, braids are pretty much the same as weaving leaves and stems for certain floral arrangements, like wreaths or baskets. Putting your hair up in a cute bun is nothing.”

“You could rival some of my attendants,” she replied, and once Prompto was done she set down her empty glass and turned to face him, watching him blush and avert his eyes. “What is it?” she asked.

Prompto shrugged, “you look so different right now,” he said. “You're not the Oracle from the news, or the prince's bride.”

“Well,” Luna murmured, moving a little bit closer to Prompto. She looked gorgeous, little stray strands of blonde curling by her ears, Noctis' shirt a little too big for her, but draping beautifully over her petite frame. Under the shirt, well--

The florist leaned forward slightly, reaching out and daring to place a hand on the outside of her thigh.

“I hope I'm more than just the Oracle or the bride,” Luna continued, and her hand touched Prompto's guiding it further up, closer to the hem of Noctis' black t-shirt.

Prompto swallowed the lump in his throat. “Oh. Believe me,” he replied, suddenly out of breath again. “Luna, you... You _and_ Noctis, you... Make me feel...”

Luna's soft lips were on his and she kissed him gently, nails going for his hairline again, tickling and teasing. Her other hand pushed at the hem of his tank, bunching the fabric and tracing the lines of his abdomen. He tasted like wine and tobacco, and perhaps a bit like the Prince underneath what was the florist's essence.

Prompto's hand slid further up, fingers smoothing over her backside and then skating along the dip of her hipbones, to the front of lace panties. He felt her muscles contract between smooth skin and smiled against her lips.

With his free hand, Prompto cupped her jaw and gently pulled himself away from the kiss. Her eyes were always so pale, but now wide and expressive. Of course, the Oracle would be just like the future King. Completely naive, and charmingly so. For a moment, Prompto was glad for the freedom being common allowed.

Carefully, he lay Luna back on the couch, taking care to make sure there were enough pillows to support her, to make sure she was comfortable. He leaned down, taking the hem of Luna's borrowed shirt with his teeth and dragging it up and out of the way, inhaling deeply the familiar musk of the prince. Luna must have realized it, too. One of her delicate hands clutched the excess fabric as if she was clutching Noctis' hand. He didn't blame her.

Prompto moved slowly, and told Luna that if she didn't like something, she should tell him to stop and he would. When he got the okay, he put his hands on her, bringing her in for another kiss before moving his lips to her throat. For the sake of appearances, he wasn't rough enough to leave marks, and so he travelled lower, listening to her short, hitched breaths. Luna didn't make much noise until Prompto's mouth found her breasts, he massages the soft flesh with his hands, moaning as he sucked and nipped. His senses, overwhelmed by her, her breathy moans and gentle coaxing. Everything about her was silken and perfect, she smelled like the spring and brought visions of flowers blooming like bursting fireworks behind Prompto's eyes.

Her chest rose and fell as he florist dragged his teeth down the line of her stomach, stopping at a barrier of lace and balancing with his hands on either side of her. “Lunafreya,” he asked, looking up at her and waiting, making sure she was okay.

“Darling,” she breathed, craning her neck to look at him. “Go on.”

“Alright.” Prompto pressed a kiss to creamy skin, eyes meeting hers the entire time. Y'know.” he purred, watching Luna through a curtain of lashes, putting on his best smoulder. “The Prince likes when I do this.”

He didn't hesitate, teeth closing around the band of white lace and tugging downward. Prompto rose up onto his knees and bent hers, fingers gently caressing and coaxing until he could slide the dainty garments completely off. She helped him out with an impatient flick of her ankle, and the florist laughed lightly around his mouthful.

“Does he now?” Luna was propped up on her elbows, watching. Her face was flushed pink, and she seemed very keen to know what Prompto was going to do next.

Prompto hummed. “Don't tell him, but your legs are way prettier.” He slid his hands to her thighs and gently coaxed them apart. “I spoke kinda soon, though. The underwear trick was exclusively for you-- what his highness _really_ likes is...”

Lips and teeth met the inside of Luna's thighs, he teased for a bit and she spread her legs further. It felt a little indecent, but Prompto wasn't really a decent person. He had no trouble lifting her leg and propping her ankle on the back of the couch, meeting her gaze long enough to flash her a playful wink.

“Remember,” he pressed a kiss to Luna's abdomen. “If you don't like it, tell me.”

Prompto waited for the nod before he dipped his head, tongue pressing against her, tasting. He started languidly, slowly, his breath coming from his nose in short puffs against wet heat. A frustrated, choked little sound caught in Luna's throat and so Prompto decided to get to the point. His hands slid along her thighs and fingers splayed out to hold her open. He could feel her trembling, tongue finding her clit and making her hips buck. “Sshh,” he mouthed his way back up to her stomach, but obediently dipped again the moment he felt her hand on his head, fingers curling in his hair and guiding his mouth back down. _Like prince like princess_ , he thought, fancying himself pretty irresistible when it came to his mouth.

He took his time, unravelling whatever tightly knotted threads of fate that kept Luna so composed all the time, letting her have a moment to herself and her own desires. It was okay, he thought. He wasn't Luna's groom to be, so he wasn't violating some ridiculous notion of chastity or anything. Prompto was just doing a good friend a good turn.

Luna was wet against him, fingers tugging in his hair and causing him to moan. Though she still trembled with pleasure, Prompto released one of her legs so that he could tend to himself, shoving his hands down the front of his pyjama pants (he'd left them in Nocts' room days before) and stroking himself sloppily. Luna's hips rolled and Prompto slid his hand beneath her velvet thigh and squeezed in encouragement. Both of their movements became faster and more desperate, Prompto with his face still buried between Luna's lips and rocking feverishly into his own hand.

When she came, Prompto sighed and smeared his lips and tongue across her, moaning from the reward of her taste. A heavenly noise spilled from her lips and Prompto swooned at the sound, the tingling heat of magic making his hair stand on end, igniting him even brighter than Noctis' touch had-- he might as well have gone down on the Hexatheon themselves. Eyelids fluttering, he grunted and spilled his own release into his hand, lifting his head and biting at Luna's skin.

“Oh my...” Luna gasped, stretching her aching legs and propping herself up onto her elbows. She was the prettiest woman Prompto had ever seen, the pile of ashen hair atop her crown now spilling like a waterfall, pale eyes glassy with pleasure.

Prompto helped her leg down from the couch and eased up onto his knees. His mouth, his crotch, his hands covered in wet, sticky mess. Grunting, he pressed his hand to his open mouth and dragged, swallowing his own taste along with the Oracle's.

“Y'know what _I_ like?” His voice was heavy with sex. “A good, hot bath.”

A blissful, breathless laugh came from Luna. “It seems I have a lot in common with you terrible, filthy boys.”

Prompto grinned, sliding off the couch and reaching for Luna. He buried his face in her neck, seeking affection and her scent mixed with what lingered on Noctis' shirt. “Now you're terrible and filthy, too.”

By the Six it was a _privilege_ to wash Luna's hair and soft body while they bathed, and Prompto sighed contentedly when she returned the favour, fussing over him for more than he was worth.

* * *

Luna and Prompto curled in Noctis' bed after their bath. They kissed and cuddled, and Prompto turned on the television, letting some movie play in the background that they only half paid attention to. It was quarter to midnight when Prompto's phone began to buzz and he untangled himself from Luna to have a look.

“It's Noct,” he said with a smile. “Hold on. Let's see what's up.”

Prompto answered the call and tapped the speaker button.

“Hey, highness! Luna's here, you're on speaker.”

“Prompto. Luna...” Noctis' voice was wrong, it was shaking and he sounded as if he was... crying?

“M-my Dad, he's... He...”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Oh, I am a tool for the land._  
>  _The bones in my hands, mean as much as sand._  
>  _Please, walk on my grave._  
>  _Plant on top flowers_  
>  _but erase my name_  
>  \-- witching hour by spook houses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to all the readers, commenters, etc. I love you all.
> 
> I'm sorry that plot happened and that bad things happened. I can't write happy things. I'm sorry.
> 
> mvgitek on tumblr!

Prompto helped Luna dress and then threw on his clothes in a hurry before leading her outside. A car had been called to collect them and take them discreetly to the Citadel.

Before they left, the blond did a quick sweep of the room to make sure he wasn't missing anything. He had his phone, his access card to both the Citadel and Noctis' apartment, his keys to the shop and his own place. His wallet was still safe in his back pocket, as well. Standing in the living room, he took a moment, drew in a breath and splayed his fingers at his sides. The prince's magic flowed through him, curling down his biceps like vines and causing a tingling sensation in his fingers. Two pistols appeared, their now familiar weight in his hands. He checked the clips on both of them, and then shook them off into whatever hidden reserves Noctis had granted him privy to. He hoped that he wouldn't need to use weapons, but with King Regis dead and Imperials within the city walls, one couldn't be too careful. Besides, he was travelling with the Oracle, and her safety was of utmost importance.

“Come now, Prompto.” Lunafreya pulled on her shoes, grabbed her bag, and waited by the door.

* * *

The drive to the Citadel was quiet and tense. Prompto and Luna were escorted by a member of the Kingsglaive all the way up to the Prince's chambers. When he bowed, the florist stopped him and shook his head, telling him that it wasn't necessary. He learned that his name was Nyx Ulric and Prompto thanked him for coming in the middle of the night without complaint.

“There hasn't been an official announcement,” the 'glaive said quietly as they stood outside Noctis' door. “But his Highness, Prince Noctis requested your presence. Funeral arrangements are already underway, but that's all I know.”

Lunafreya smiled sadly and inclined her head politely. “Thank you, Nyx.”

Prompto opened the heavy door, sidestepping so that Luna could enter first. Her low heels no longer clicking as marble made way to an elaborately woven rug. The florist followed, closing the door behind him and flicking the lock with a finger.

The Oracle was already crossing the room, lavishly decorated with a four-poster bed, a wardrobe, a table, armchair, and a fully stocked bookshelf. The fireplace was unlit due to the warm temperatures and the curtains were drawn open, providing an impressive view of the gardens, much like the chapel. Moonlight spilled from opened panes, a gentle evening breeze toying with black fabrics draped about the room. Noctis sat there, cradling in his hands, his father's ring.

“My dear prince,” Lunafreya wasted no time joining Noctis on the edge of the bed and gathering him up. He turned his head, the pale expanse of his throat bathed in moonlight and stark against dark clothes. He shook and finally sobbed, letting go into the crook of the Oracle's swanlike neck.

When Luna kissed his forehead and carded her gentle hands through his hair, Noctis lost his composure. He couldn't help but let his sorrow take him, an extraordinary pain lancing through the ruby core of his chest, tearing at his heart with the deftness of a surgeon's knife. “Dad...” He gasped, incapable of anything else between his tears. His fingers closed tightly around the ring, squeezing until the metal bit into his palm.

“Hey buddy,” Prompto's voice was soft and Noctis turned his face from the crook of Luna's neck to follow it. The florist had approached and was now placing a warm hand on his shoulder. He could feel the Oracle's gentle arms around him, her sweet aroma mixed with Prompto's cologne, the calming scent of flowers either blowing in from the garden, or drifting off the two people now tending to him.

Noctis watched as both the florist and his fiancee exchanged glances and nods of approval. He burst into a fresh bout of tears, still aching for the loss, but now filled with a painful sort of gratitude to accompany it. Everything would be different now, the weight on his shoulders only increased. Was he ready to rule? Could he continue to make decisions for the good of Lucis without his father's guiding hand? The wedding, the treaty, the Imperial officers that were now his esteemed _guests_.

Prompto's hand drifted to Noctis' knee, carefully slid up his thigh and squeezed. He smiled, squatting on the floor before both the prince and the Oracle. “We're here for you.”

“Even if it seems that you are alone,” Luna supplied gently, reaching out with a tender touch to wipe at his tears, tucking unruly black hair behind the shell of his ear. “We are by your side.”

“And so are Iggy, Gladio, and Iris, too.”

Noctis blinked away salty tears and glanced between Prompto and Luna, reaching with his free hand to smooth down the florist's bright blond hair, fingers touching his cheek with the utmost affection. Prompto covered his hand with his own, and Noctis used it as an opportunity to thread their fingers and tug him up to the bed as well. He went easily, finding a spot beside Noctis and holding him from the side opposite Luna.

“You two--”

His voice shook, and he let his head rest back against the silken spot between Luna's neck and shoulder. Her hair, touched by the breeze tickled his damp cheeks. The Oracle pressed a kiss to his crown and closed her fingers around the fist still clutching the ring.

“Whenever you're ready, dearest.”

“Yeah, Noct. Take your time.”

* * *

Eventually, Noctis had drifted off to sleep. Luna had arranged herself to hold him while Prompto rearranged the pillows so that she'd be comfortable.

“Luna,” he whispered hesitantly, unsure as he looked between the Oracle and... the King. “Uhm...” The florist moved around the bed and delicately removed Luna's shoes for her before placing them neatly on the floor. He did the same for Noctis, and Luna took the ring for safekeeping.

“What is it, Prompto?” She asked, her pale eyes unreadable, even if her brows were furrowed slightly with a gentle benevolent concern.

“Can I ask you a favour? Stay with him tonight. I have to... take care of something. I-It's for King Regis. I'm not-- I'm not trying to abandon him.”

The Oracle's expression relaxed and she smoothed one hand through midnight locks before beckoning Prompto closer. “Is that all?” she asked, a smile gracing her blush-coloured lips. Once Prompto was close enough, she tugged gently on his soft hair, still able to catch the scent of the shampoo they'd shared. Lunafreya gave him her blessing in the form of a kiss, and Prompto returned it immediately.

“Thank you, Luna.” He bowed his head, then pressed a quick kiss to the sleeping King's hair before hurrying out of the room.

Outside Noctis' door, Prompto had expected to see Nyx standing guard, but now he was accompanied by Aranea, who up until now he hadn't seen outfitted in her uniform. Nyx bowed to Prompto and the Dragoon offered an almost mocking salute. “We've got it covered, blondie.”

“T-thanks,” he managed as he started down the hall, nearly tripping over his feet as he walked backwards away from them. “Please look after them-- they're...” _They're important to me_.

Prompto frowned as he hurried through the Citadel, checking his watch and frowning at the time. It was nearly 10 o'clock at night and he was already beginning to make a lot of work for himself. He had to shake off the weight of Noctis' sorrow and focus. Maybe he could grab something from the kitchens on his way out, coffee perhaps?

When Prompto finally reached the kitchen, he wasn't expecting to find some of the lights still on and a pleasant smell wafting from one of the ovens at this hour. He especially wasn't expecting to find Ignis and Gladio, the former shucking off oven mitts and the latter leaning against the counter with a mug in his hand.

“Guys?” Prompto asked, “it's like... Bedtime.”

Gladio raised a brow, surprised to see Prompto. “So what're you doing up then?” he contested.

“I just--”

Ignis didn't let him finish, holding up one hand and making his way across the kitchen. From a large bowl of fruit, he picked four ripened bananas, and extracted some blueberries from the fridge. A bit of knife work later, he presented a plate of sliced banana topped with blueberries and almond butter. “It's a myth that you'll gain weight if you eat too late at night, provided that you eat well,” Ignis explained. “Eat,” he commanded. “And nothing with caffeine until tomorrow morning. You as well, Gladio.”

Both the Shield and the florist were far beyond disobeying, exchanging a look before watching Ignis check the oven again.

“Iggy's preparing a pastry dough for tomorrow. He wants to serve Noct a special breakfast,” Gladio explained quietly, before falling silent.

Prompto watched, chewing on a bit of banana as the somber quiet settled over the kitchen. Gladiolus and Ignis were just as heartbroken over losing their king, it seemed, but both of them still had a Prince to serve, their lives and their duties still moved forward without King Regis. They couldn't afford to mourn, and so they threw themselves headfirst into their work. Prompto had to do the same. He had to be strong.

He and Gladio finished off their plate and Prompto hesitantly broke the silence by thanking Ignis, giving him a slight bow before making his leave.

“Before you go,” the advisor called, “may I have a word?”

Prompto stopped in his tracks, but nodded. Did he have a choice? Not with the way Ignis was watching him over the rims of his spectacles, he didn't.

“Gladio, please keep an eye on the pastry. Do not let it burn.”

“Yes, sir,” Gladio grunted.

Ignis pulled Prompto out into the hall, adjusting his glasses in the dim light of the corridor. Prompto, skittish under his appraisal waited for what seemed like an eternity before he spoke.

“I know,” was all the advisor said, watching as the colour drained from the freckled boy's face.

“Ignis please don't--”

“Ah,” the advisor held up his hand again. “I will not speak of it-- I understand your predicament. I would, however offer some advice.”

Prompto's insides dropped, heavy with relief as Ignis gave his word. He let out a ragged breath, covering his face with his palms and trying to calm himself. He hadn't realized that he was shaking, but his dappled shoulders trembled as he stood there, feeling small.

“Do not keep secrets from His Majesty for too long.”

The florist started when Ignis reached out to touch his shoulder, the gesture seeming awkward and out of place for the stiff, composed advisor.

“I-- I won't I... Ignis. Thank you, _thank you_.”

Prompto bowed low, even though he was pretty sure that even florists weren't supposed to bow to advisors or shields. Still, he did it anyway, choked with gratitude and on the verge of tears.

When he straightened up, Ignis was already heading back to the kitchen. He watched as the advisor checked the oven, then looked to Gladio, ruffling his hair in recognition for a job well done. The moment of softness hardly lasted, though and Ignis was already pointing towards something Prompto couldn't see, possibly asking Gladiolus to fetch it.

Prompto hurried back to Argentum's, skittering on the smooth floors of the Citadel on his way out.

* * *

Turning on the lights, Prompto locked the doors behind him and did his usual rounds of the store, checking on each plant before he finally settled. By now, it was closer to eleven o'clock, and although Ignis had counselled against caffeine, he brewed a pot of coffee in the back room and then headed back up to the front. White roses for reverence, stargazer lilies for sympathy and majesty, purple mums meaning death. Prompto took a sip of coffee before digging for spools of matte black ribbon. He would work all night if he had to, he would do the only thing he knew how if it would make things easier for Noctis.

Finally, now that he was alone, he let himself cry.

* * *

The funeral was small and intimate. People of importance gathered in the chapel to pay their respects, but there was no burial. King Regis' body would be entombed in the place of King Noctis' choosing, as Lucian tradition decreed. He would be buried with his weapon, and that armament would serve as an addition to the next King's power. Prompto and the royal attendants had worked tirelessly to temporarily remove the wedding flora and replace them with the black, white, and pale purples of funeral flowers. Prompto didn't speak on how he'd spent the entire evening and morning completing the job, and he excused himself politely as soon as the service concluded with a heart-wrenching speech from Lunafreya herself, as she implored The Six take the fallen King to rest among the blessed stars.

Prompto was miserable, dressed in the suit he'd been meant to wear at a wedding, not a funeral.

There would be a wake held in the gardens, but Prompto was too tired and more than afraid he would see Ardyn again, or any other Imperials of note. His head was still so fuzzy when he thought about the chancellor, and his lie to Luna about breakfast and over exertion had been exactly that. There was something in his memory that he was protecting himself from, a dark shadow looming over him.

Prompto backed out of the garden, politely thanking a complete stranger for her compliments on the flower arrangements and then slipping away. He kept his head down as he walked through the corridors, wishing his dress shoes weren't so loud against the polished floors. Eventually, he made his way to the elevator, intent on hiding it out in Noctis' room.

Pressing the call button, he waited impatiently, sighing in relief once the elevator arrived with a ' _ding_.' He was still alone and that was good. The florist shuffled inside, letting his back hit the mirrored walls as he tugged loose his tie. Just before the doors slid shut, a brilliant flash of blue and white reflected in wide eyes illuminated the space and dissolving into Noctis who, in his pressed pinstripe suit crowded Prompto further against the wall.

“What were you _thinking_?” He practically growled, leaning in close and pressing one hand to the wall beside Prompto's face, trapping him.

“N-noct? What-- what are you--?” Panic bubbled in the florist's stomach. He was afraid that something had slipped, that Noctis had uncovered something about him that he wasn't supposed to know. Did Ignis tell?

“First I hear that you were found passed out in the chapel, and now you're staying up all night to... decorate the--” Noctis couldn't say the word funeral, he couldn't make his father's death any more real than it already was. “We're already working you to the bone, and you--?”

Wide blue eyes searched Noctis' steely features. Beyond the King's shoulder, Prompto could see himself in the mirrored glass. He looked sunken, exhausted, black and red rings tattooed beneath his eyes. “Noct. Noct, I'm _fine_ ,” he breathed, calming when he realized that this was the only thing the King was worried about. “It's nothing, I'm happy to--”

“Prompto.” The King pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing out. The florist could see that he had been crying, his eyes still cloudy, cheeks dusted red, and lips swollen. Whatever he was about to say was lost as the elevator chimed to alert them of their stop. Doors sliding open, Prompto followed Noctis out and all the way to his room.

Once the door was finally shut behind them, Noctis went for Prompto again. This time, his fingers were at his tie, loosening it the rest of the way before slipping it off, then he went for the buttons on his jacket. “There are Imperials all over the Citadel. I have a coronation, a wedding, a burial, a peace treaty, or a war. Who knows? Prompto, I need you to take care of yourself, please.”

“Luna has her bodyguards, so if you think I need to assign someone to you, that's fine, but I need you to--”

The florist noticed Noctis' hands were shaking. He noticed the ring on his finger and appraised the weight it seemed to carry. He understood now, this wasn't about completely about Prompto, this was about the fledgling King and his fears.

“Noctis,” he breathed, reaching for his hands to still them. “Noctis _look at me._ I'm here and I'm fine, and I will continue to be fine. Do you remember what Luna and I said?”

The King stopped, hands still hovering uselessly beneath Prompto's. The florist took them in his own, meeting his grey/blue gaze and lift one to his lips, kissing the ring. “We're here for you. Luna and I are both beside you, Majesty and so is the rest of your retinue.”

He waited for Noctis' breathing to slow, for him to calm down. “Take a breath,” he instructed, waiting for the King to comply. “Luna is holding up the fort all by herself down there. Go be with her, and I'll take a nap if it makes you feel better.” Prompto offered an encouraging smile, then leaned in to kiss Noctis while he straightened the taller man's collar. “The only thing you have to worry about is yourself and your people.”

“But you're—”

“A Niff,” Prompto replied. “ _Not_ your people.”

The moment Noctis rolled his eyes, Prompto knew that he was back to normal, that he would be alright.

The King straightened his shoulders, tugged on his cuffs and ran a hand through his hair before pulling Prompto into a deep kiss. His arms wrapped around the boy's lithe waist and he bit down on his bottom lip before pulling away completely.

“When all of this is done, we're gonna have a look at your papers,” he promised, a raspy growl in Prompto's ear. “I'm going to make it official, and you're going to be mine.”

“Mmhm,” Prompto hummed. “Kinky.”

Grinning, he slapped Noctis playfully on the behind and then opened the door for him. On the King's way out, Prompto promised him that he'd get some sleep.

He'd have to do what he could to make sure Noctis never saw those papers.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted_  
>  _To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty._  
>  _How free it is, you have no idea how free——_  
>  \-- Tulips by Sylvia Plath  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I'm not gonna be mad if people decide to drop this fic. I promised something happy and cute and could not deliver.
> 
> Just drag me, lmfao.
> 
> For those of you still sticking around, thanks so much. I'm very grateful! This chapter is short, but necessary, also it's not beta'd. Nothing is ever beta'd.

Noctis returned to the garden, steeling himself before he pushed open the great glass doors. Evening was making way into night and the greenery was lit accordingly with soft, orange lamps and candlelight. As he passed, the court offered condolences, which Noctis did his best to acknowledge as he made a bee-line for Luna, who stood close to a man dressed in a similar white, however his attire bore the imperial insignia. He had the same ashen hair as his bride to be and so when he approached, the King was hardly surprised when Luna introduced him as her brother.

“Majesty,” Ravus greeted with a bow, but Noctis couldn't help but detect something sour in his voice. His eyes, unmatched in colour, darted towards the ring on the heir's finger. “My condolences.”

“The coronation isn't until tomorrow, High Commander,” Noctis corrected, adapting a civil tone for Luna's sake. “You can call me Noctis, if you'd like. After all,” his lips curled into somewhat of a smile before he continued, “we're to be brothers soon.”

The look on Ravus' face spelled out greed and jealousy just as much as the sigil embroidered into his clothing. He wondered, what the commander thought he might accomplish siding with Niflheim, especially seeing as his reasons for it were purely out of spite towards the Lucian Royal Family. It was almost insulting, his presence here at his father's funeral and had Luna not been present, Noctis might have asked if he'd simply left his chambers to gloat.

“I hope that you're finding the Citadel comfortable,” he said instead. “Please, don't let me keep you from your sister. It's always comforting to have family close during difficult times.”

Although he wanted to be there for Lunafreya, Noctis simply couldn't stand to have decent conversation with the commander of an army what had ravaged his entire nation, and indirectly caused his father's untimely death.

* * *

Prompto slipped into Noctis' en-suite and ran the sink, splashing cold water on his face before shrugging out of his suit jacket. Returning to the bedroom, he hung the garment carefully over the back of the armchair and tugged the cuffs of his dress shirt down to conceal his wrist, frowning at the tattoo he couldn't see. No matter how hard he thought on the matter, he couldn't come up with a way to hide himself, to hide what he was. Noctis would find out eventually. There was paperwork which documented refugees, probably digital files somewhere, too. On his way out of Gralea, Prompto had used forged documents, but if Ignis knew... that meant there was something that had been overlooked. Something Prompto had no control over.

His exhaustion made panic come easily, the worry like claws scratching just so on the back of his skull, twisting his guts into knots. What could he do? Tell Noctis and be branded with something worse than the barcode-- a mark of betrayal, and have the king resent him for lying? The florist turned towards the vanity, catching himself in the full-length mirror propped beside it. Shuddering, he held himself, coming to terms with knowing that he could wear as many nice things as the King wanted to buy him and still not change who he was on the inside. What if there was something horrible sleeping inside of him? The same thing that had muddled his memories and fractured his ability to think about anything before the hills of Tenebrae, Sylleblossoms speeding by, violet in his mind. _But why violet? Why violet when there was only red?_ The muscle memory was there, the familiarity of a gun, the capacity for violence at the tips of his fingers. He felt complacent around the future King, would bend the knee to the Oracle in a heartbeat. There was a desire to serve; his very being existed to worship. _Thank you, highness_. He laughed, clenched his fists and dug half-moons into his palms. _You could rival some of my attendants._ He staggered towards the mirror, reaching out to grip the ornate frame while he shook with some sick sort of mirth.

What was he? His parents-- who were they? How old was he when he left, again? Thirteen? Fifteen? Old enough to serve the empire. Old enough to start phase---

Who put him on that train? Who gave him the papers?

Violet turned to red. Red flames swallowing up whatever stood in his way, red like a crown splattered beneath a faceless head.

His fingers raked down his own reflection as he sank to the ground, peering through narrowed eyes. Still trembling, his once clean shirt now damp and clingy with sweat. There was an empty space inside of him, the same space that had Ardyn's name tucked away in it, but deep down he knew something... He knew the word Magitek and that it described him, but he was different than those soulless suits of armour, wasn't he? Laughter gave way into a choked sort of sound, a sob hitching in his throat. _Kneeling at Lucian bedsides now, are we?_ The mocking tone rang out in his skull and Prompto dragged his hand across the mirror as if he could wipe himself from it's surface. He felt unhinged, out of control. “Mhm,” he exhaled in reply. _It's a wonder you ended up here, of all places._

_You don't remember me, do you?_

“Ardyn.” The name was like poison on Prompto's tongue, flicking behind his teeth as a serpent might. He drew himself away from his reflection, hissing like an animal and moving to stand.

On shaking legs, he crossed the room and fumbled with the door, heading out into the hall with no direction in mind, just a need, unable to control the pull of one magnet to another.

* * *

The blond found Ardyn in the chapel, expectant.

“When the prodigal son returned, I was hoping that I'd be referring to Noctis.” Ardyn sighed, fingers smoothing over the edge of the pulpit.

“I bet you were hoping to be sitting comfy on the throne, too.”

Prompto dragged himself up the very aisle Noctis and Luna were supposed to walk within a few days, stopping short at the stairs and calling on his pistols. His breath came in long, laboured huffs and he could feel the very clothes on his back weigh down on flushed skin.

Ardyn, uninterested, heaved another long-suffering sigh. “You have me figured out, don't you boy?” He held out one hand and the blond flinched, flicking the safety on his guns in warning. “Come here. Let me tell you a story.”

Gritting his teeth, Prompto tried with all he could to resist. He could have called for help, summoned the guards, anything really. Noctis was just outside and so was Luna, nothing was stopping him from ending this now except for the part of him he didn't know. A cog turned in his head and bid him relax, the tension seeped from his jaw and his shoulders and Prompto's fingers uncurled. Weapons dropped from his hands and dissipated before they could hit the ground. Obediently, he climbed the stairs and went to Ardyn.

“Tell me,” he croaked, voice sounding hazy and distant to his own ears. “I... I want to remember.”

“Of _course_ you do.”

* * *

“...Impossible,” Emperor Aldercapt snorted, sitting back on his throne, fingers drumming the armrest. “You expect me to take a bastard child as an heir?”

“Y-your excellency, please. He's your _son_ , I want what's best for him.”

The Emperor stood, regalia billowing, half-draped on the throne. “What's best?” He sneered. “Were you thinking about what was best for him when you thought to betray your husband, when you _conceived_ the little urchin? I won't hear another word about this boy.”

Niflheim's greatest empire had no use for an heir. No use for a brat who would one day usurp him, steal away his power. No. He would have Lucis, he would have the crystal, he would become _Immortal_.

“...If I may, Your Imperial Majesty.” A drawl from the dark, the slither of snakes crawling out from beneath the earth. “He might prove useful, we've a shortage of... candidates for the new Infantry. What I see here is a perfectly reasonable solution. You take no responsibility for the child, and... the mother's wish is granted just as well. He'll be fed and cared for. And you,” the accursed turned to the sobbing woman, his words fattened with grandeur. “You will have the privilege of knowing your _beautiful_ baby boy has grown up to serve under the glorious banner of the Niflheim Empire.”

* * *

Prompto felt the same lightheadedness he'd encountered the first time he'd met Ardyn in the chapel. Sometime during the story, he'd sunk down onto one of the pews and was holding his head between his knees.

“I'm--”

“The Emperor's son. Yes.” Ardyn sounded bored, boots heavy on the hard floors. Prompto didn't look up to see what he was doing. “The last one standing in the way of my taking the Imperial throne.”

“I'm... I just grow flowers,” the boy insisted softly, turning Ardyn's words over in his head. The last one? What happened to Emperor Aldercapt? Unless---

Prompto shot to his feet the moment Ardyn lunged, he felt something sharp and painful lance through his gut, the chancellor's hand gripping the hilt of a silver blade. He groaned, shaking hands coming up to close weakly over Ardyn's as if he might pull out the weapon. “I d-don't ev-even want--”

Ardyn smoothed his gloved fingers through soft, sweat-slicked hair. “Had you stayed in your place, I wouldn't be doing this, dear boy.” Words whispered in the florist's ear, Prompto unsure if he was trembling from the pain, or out of fear. The smell of flowers in the chapel gave way to whatever rotting darkness was lingering on Ardyn's tongue, pushing into him like the dagger, slicing his skin and leaving something warm and wet in its wake. It wasn't fair, he thought. He never asked for royalty. He never asked for a great destiny. He never asked for more than he could afford.

He'd wanted to grow flowers. He'd wanted to love, he'd wanted to be loved.

Gods, he would kneel at the hazy image of Bahamut's statue for as long as it took. He would apologize to the Glacian for what his people had done to her. He'd stay at Noctis' bedside, he'd worship the ground Luna walked on. He'd do anything not to die here. If he had a soul to sell he'd give it away just for one more day behind the counter at Argentum's.

The chancellor pulled out the knife in one smooth motion and Prompto sagged against him, feeling arms come up to support him just before everything went dark.

* * *

“I didn't mean to cause so much trouble,” Prompto muttered, reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck. He shuffled from one foot to the next, then crouched down in the green and blue. “Seriously, Noct. The funeral, the wedding, the coronation. It was totally about you, not me.”

Noctis shrugged, blinking up from where he lay, the Sylleblossoms a violet crown blooming over him. “It's no big deal.” Prompto, now crouched by the King's head, peered at his upside-down features. He leaned forward, hands coming out to support himself and crushing helpless flowers between clumsy fingers. They dissolved into something red and wet, coating his fingers and staining his skin. “Noct!?” He wrenched his hands away, staring wide-eyed and panicked. He tried to wipe the blood away in the grass, but it only spread. The green and violet now ablaze with red and orange, Prompto sprang to his feet and whirled around, intent on running from the blaze.

“So, you're going to run?” It was Luna now, standing before him and gripping his shoulders, her ceremonial trident forgotten at her feet. Her eyes were red and wet with tears and she was quivering. Prompto reached up to still her, but his hands and arms were still covered in blood and yet the barcode on his wrist still stood out plainly. He couldn't--

“You'll burn down all of Lucis, just like you burned Tenebrae?”

“I—I didn't! Luna, I--” He had been seven, maybe eight when Tenebrae fell. He couldn't have been there, so why did he feel responsible?

“What d'you think, Noct?” A voice rumbled from somewhere behind him. Prompto turned to see Gladio, hefting his sword over his shoulder. “One MT isn't anything to sweat over.”

Ignis cleared his throat, shaking his head. “With all due respect, I warned you about him, Noctis.”

Now, the blond had turned around completely. Again, he was face to face with Noctis. “Please,” he tried, voice breaking. He stepped forward, reaching out with soiled hands, fingers curling in the soft, black fabric of the King's regal dress and effectively staining it. “Oh, Prompto,” Noctis sighed. “You know, before he died, I had a lot of people say I was like my father. At first, I almost resented the comparison, but now I'm proud.”

The King's lips curled into a ruthless smirk, eyes glowing a deep ruby colour. His skin beneath Prompto's fingers radiated raw power, the power of Kings.

“I wonder... How much are you like _your_ father?”

Prompto felt his knees hit the ground and then everything went dark again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will have a little more detail about Prompto's past!
> 
> i'm sorry for just shoehorning ravus in but that's literally what they did in the game, so I can't be held accountable. I'm... so over ravus.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You we born on a leap year._  
>  _Fill in the gaps._  
>  _Spinning gears keep catching your cracks,_  
>  _skipping teeth,_  
>  _keep calling you back,_  
>  _telling stories pretending they’re fact._  
>  _Let me go. Too unstable to wane._  
>  _Chewing wildflowers to numb the pain._  
>  _(Entrust the secrets to the backs of your arms._  
>  _Killing the self as to protect it from harm.)_  
>  \-- Among the Wildflowers by The Hotelier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll say a few things about this chapter at the end because I feel like... idk. weird about it
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has read, commented, kudos, and stuck with me. you can find me on tumblr as mvgitek! I'd love to hear from you. <3

It was difficult to tell if he was really here; if this body was really his own. Although his own greatest mercy was his ignorance, the body never truly forgot what the mind allowed to slip away. Cold metal and a solid weight in his mouth, something to keep him from biting his tongue once it started. Slack-jawed and delirious, looking for the fields of green and blue, looking for Luna and Noctis. How did he get from there to here? Prompto recognized this place, even if he couldn't remember it from this angle. The empire's underbelly, both it's pride and it's shame. Zagnautus Keep, where soldiers were made.

_You grew up here._

There was no recoil, no defence of the body or mind. Prompto couldn't feel his limbs, vaguely aware that he was straining against something unyielding in the dark. He grit his teeth, teeth grinding into a solid hunk of whatever he'd been gagged with. Whatever sounds he made were swallowed by the emptiness, the never ending night.

“Another, then. We need to make sure it takes.”

A huff of warm air expelled from his nose as the steady whir of machines filled his senses. All at once, the room illuminated as memories flooded in. A steady beeping helped Prompto keep time, helped him count down the seconds between each quickening heartbeat. He knew what this was and he didn't want it. He knew what this was and he'd made himself forget for a reason.

_You remember, don't you? Just relax and it'll go easier._

There was a part of him that was more grown up, a part who remembered and was broken from the experience. Fractured, but stronger for it. Protective of the pieces lying in remainder.

He couldn't help himself, teeth bared like an animal, the whole of him invaded with that one tiny prick. He was hyper aware of metal sliding effortlessly beneath paper skin. He squirmed and contorted as much as the restraints would allow, as if he could force back the pressure and push out whatever filth was being fed into his veins. He lacked control, he lacked discipline. He wished he could force it out, he wished he wasn't so grateful for it. It was torture and bliss, the mindless abandon. Empty of himself, his fears. His spine arched off the cold metal slab, an unholy sound torn from his throat. He wanted it to stop, but he needed it even more. Waves of alternating pain and pleasure undulating across the map of his nerves.

_You want this. You're weak._

A strangled sound, something wet and burning in his throat, spilling out his open mouth. He was supposed to... to look. To look at whatever had been burned into his retinas. This was a lesson. He was trapped in his own body. Going deeper. _Concentrate_.

* * *

Prompto tried lift his arms, but they shook. Quivering fingers gripped cold metal, hovering dangerously over the trigger. He hefted the rifle, its weight suddenly too heavy. There was something in his mouth, keeping him from biting his tongue. There was something soft in his mouth, shoved down his throat. He coughed and sputtered, violet petals slick with saliva clung to his lips, sodden on his fingers as he wiped them away.

“Prompto--”

_Your name isn't Prompto._

The soldier lift his arms, his aim true. The pop and burst of rapid fire exploded from his fingertips. Red burst forth from gunshot wounds, blooming like a crown of bloody wildflowers around the dying man's skull. Satisfied, he swung the weapon around to his back and approached the fallen.

“Prompto.”

A name bubbled up from bloodied lips, weak and begging. The soldier didn't understand, but he took pleasure in the struggled sound. Amidst the dying gasps fron his victim's chapped lips was the crackle of flames, the stinging stench of fire scorching the air. Burning greenery and charred flesh set his very bones alight in a very different way. He wanted more, he wanted--

“My... name isn't...”

He crouched down before the dying man. Fingers touched blood, warm and wet Bruising the delicate petals of his macabre adornment, the soldier purposely wiped the mess from his hands in dirt hair, a permanent coronation. He felt a pang of jealousy towards the calm expression on the fallen, the blank stare in his eyes meaning freedom. Sighing, he pressed their lips together as if he might indulge in some of that eternal silence, but there was no give without take, and so he fed his prey a most beautiful flower.

* * *

“What's your name?”

“I don't--”

“Prompto. _Remember it_.”

The boy was on the verge of panic, the woman's eyes held insurmountable terror and he couldn't make it go away. He couldn't answer one simple question. He couldn't please her. She shoved a handful papers into his worn jacket, folded sharply in the center and crisp white.

_You can't remember our name, but can you remember our mother?_

“Do not loose these, _Prompto_. If someone asks to see them, present them. Do not speak to anyone else.”

She was gripping his shoulders now, her words imploring, desperate. Her eyes were wet with tears, and for a moment he wanted to comfort her; this woman he barely knew. The boy didn't flinch as her hands moved from his shoulders to his face, her touch was warm and he couldn't help but think it familiar.

“I... I understand,” he managed despite his confusion, expecting that she wanted confirmation. What he didn't expect was the way she pulled him close, kissed the top of his head and sobbed into his hair. Slowly, his apprehension ebbed away. He leaned into the foreign touch, aching in an unfamiliar way with a thirst he couldn't slake.

Violet. She dissolved into violet and the violet gave way to black.

* * *

Fifteen year old Prompto sat aboard the train. He'd been minding his own business, staring blankly out the window. Across from him, a woman who hadn't been there before. She spoke gently, her hair tied up and twisted into a neat braid, little wisps of blonde near her ears. She was clad in white, and she didn't belong here on the rickety locomotive; bathed in light, a goddess.

He stared, blue eyes sunken and cheeks sallow. His hands twitched, fingers mourning the loss of a pistol. He could feel her warmth from across the short distance between them.

“Prompto?”

The soldier twitched, but otherwise did not react. He wasn't supposed to talk to anyone. He practised indifference until the train rolled by a brilliant expanse of green and violet. Instantly, was everything to to him. The rolling hills and singing meadows were like nothing he'd ever seen, and all moving by in a hardly recognizable blur as the car sped on past, ignorant to the unparalleled beauty _just_ outside a thin steel wall, almost within reach.

At once, he was alive. He'd seen colour for the first time, he'd formed a memory. He drew his very first breath.

“Prompto.”

He wouldn't let her drag him away from this. Stubbornly, Prompto pressed his cheek back to the glass.

“Prompto. Wake up!”

Hands clenched into fists and Prompto drew another stubborn breath before jumping from his seat. Frantically, he pressed his hands to the window, fingers scrabbling at the seal as if he could find some give. When there was nothing, the boy darted from the compartment. He had tried not to, but when he looked to the woman, she had changed. She was ruined, skin red and black, bubbling like a burn-victim's, the smell of melting flesh stinging his eyes and nose.

Panicked, he flung himself to the other end of the car, wrenching open the door. He'd do it, he'd jump from the speeding train if it meant he could stay. He'd dive into the unknown if it meant he'd be wrapped in green, swathed in the soft violet petals. The light would scorch his skin and he'd bruise the delicate flora, but it would be alright because there was give and there was take. You couldn't protect something without hurting it first.

“ _Prompto!_ ”

* * *

Noctis felt something stir above the quiet, fingers hooking a spot beneath his rib cage, drawing on his power. People were slowly trickling out of the garden, saying their final respects and giving the heir their quiet condolences before making leave. Selfishly, Noctis had left Luna alone with Ravus and now stood with Ignis and Gladio. If they were here, whoever had dipped into his magic was--

“With me,” he glanced to his retainers, the order absolute as he swept from the garden. He didn't know what was going on, but he knew that Prompto had drawn his weapons; something that he shouldn't have had to do inside of the safety of the Citadel.

It was easy to spot Noctis as he left, and Lunafreya wasn't about to let him go alone. A light frown touching her features, she paused in conversation and rest a hand on her dear brother's shoulder. “I'll return shortly, excuse me.”

* * *

“What have you done?”

Noctis' guttural fury echoed off the chapel's looming walls as he charged towards the altar, stopping short of the steps. Gladio and Ignis moved to place themselves in front of him and drew their weapons accordingly, but he brushed past his guard and summoned the armiger, a threatening display of dazzling blue and white between himself and Ardyn.

The Imperial Chancellor held Prompto upright by the middle, the florist's head lolling forward until his chin touched his chest. “Merely securing my place. First the empire, then the crystal, and finally... Lucis,” Ardyn drawled, seemingly unafraid of the angered king. “Perhaps if your majesty kept his pets on tighter leashes,” he glanced to Prompto, leaning in to see how fast the light had faded from his dull blue eyes. “ _This_ wouldn't have been necessary.” To punctuate his statement, Ardyn let the florist's limp body fall to the altar floor in a bloody heap. That instant, Noctis lunged with his late father's sword in hand, twelve holy weapons at his back prepared to strike.

A bitter chill drifted from the chapel ceiling, slow to settle in at first but soon biting Noctis' skin, whipping Ardyn's unruly hair. The King's blade halted midair and the entire chapel seemed to still.

Noctis managed to turn his head, eyes widening. Luna had entered the chapel, gripping her trident and flanked by both Genitana and Aranea. The former stepped closer as a thin layer of permafrost formed over the entire room. Ignis, Gladio, Ardyn, Noctis, even Prompto gone still as if time itself had stopped. The King watched the woman shed her mortal form, the Glacian rising from where she once stood.

Shiva moved gracefully, leading a dance with the flurries of snow now twirling about the chapel, her feet never quite made contact with the ground, as if her frigid skin was too holy to touch it. She swept past Luna and moved to Noctis' side, one dainty hand touching the King's cloaked shoulder. When she spoke, it resonated, coming from within Noctis' mind rather than through his ears.

“ _O, king of kings. Strike down the Accursed, here and now. See him for what he truly is. The blessings of The Six are ever within your grasp._ ”

Noctis didn't know exactly what the words meant, but when he turned to face Ardyn again, he was met with a twisted version of the chancellor. Frozen before him, an ashen-skinned shell of humanity, darkness seeping from his eyes, his mouth... Clawed hands reaching; useless against the force of the blizzard, flesh yielding to the strike of Noctis' blade.

Everything had happened so quickly once Ardyn had faded into ash. Noctis, watching with a sinking feeling as Aranea relieved Luna of her weapon so that she might tend to Prompto's wound. Gentiana-- no, Shiva, had stayed and assured them all that the florist would be fine now that he was under the Lunafreya's care. To the King and his court she spoke of the prophecy, of the True King of the Stone who would put an end to the Accursed, guided by the Oracle's light and bearing the ring of his forefathers.

* * *

Prompto gasped loudly, gulping in air so quickly that it stung. He hurt... _everywhere_ , but especially his gut, especially his chest every time he tried to draw breath. Once he found his voice, the most he could do was groan, vaguely aware of the soft hands cradling either side of his head, the light tickle of warm breath and lips on his forehead.

“Blessed stars of light and life...”

The florist felt a pleasant warmth pulsing deep within his bones, covering his skin and making it tingle like static. For a moment, it overwhelmed the pain and sent his eyelids fluttering open, pupils blown wide and lashes heavy as if he hadn't the strength to lift them. The smell of flowers, of spring was all around him, wrapping him in a soft blanket and covering him in pleasant light.

“He's alright? Let me see.”

“Shh, dearest. Give him room to breathe.”

Prompto watched through hazy vision as white made way to dark. Luna had moved away just slightly so that Noctis could have a place above him as well.

“Hey,” the florist croaked, dry lips cracking into what he hoped was a smile. “Sorry about that. I've been pulling a lot of all-nighters, lately. Had to get some beauty rest...”

“Shut up,” came the growl from above, Noctis now burying his damp face in the crook of Prompto's neck, Luna admonishing him for it, telling him to be gentle.

“S'okay,” Prompto grunted, even if the former prince's weight was less than comfortable. He reached up, blindly searching with crooked fingers until Luna sighed into acquiescence. The florist felt her tremble, realizing that she was crying and trying to juggle both Noctis' weight and leaning up to kiss her cheek.

Luna found a spot beside him, touching his face once more as she met his gaze. “Do not strain yourself,” she counselled softly, doing her best to restrain herself from sobbing. Meanwhile, Prompto pet down the King's hair, allowing him to cry freely.

“Ah, his Imperial Excellency is awake.”

Aranea, Ignis, and Gladio had been standing guard at the door, watching tersely while Luna worked her magic to guide Prompto through whatever fever he'd succumbed to by the way of his wounds. At the sound of the advisor's voice, the room grew quiet save for the shifting of blankets and bodies as both Noctis and Luna moved to sit.

“W-what?” Noctis looked between Ignis and Prompto, features tear-streaked and utterly confused.

Prompto turned his head away, thinking he didn't have enough blood left in him to blush and being proven very wrong. But then, his brain caught up with the advisor's words and he became confused. Ignis had called him out for being the emperor... _not_ Magitek. Was that why he'd been so diplomatic?

Frowning, Prompto attempted to sit up and was instantly helped by the king and the oracle. They propped pillows beneath him and helped rearrange his hardly-willing body into something resembling comfort. “...Y-you knew?” he asked, looking to Ignis.

“I did tell you as much,” Ignis replied, equally confused. He stepped further into the room, Gladio following and looking just as perplexed. “All it took was a little digging. I'll admit, you taking an assumed name had me worried for Noctis' sake, however I was not expecting to find the heir to Niflheim's throne behind the counter of an unassuming flower shop.” Ignis paused, noting the blond's uncertainty and clearing his throat. “Was there something... else you might confess?”

“Uh... I--” Prompto was silent for awhile, glancing down at his wrist. He closed his fingers around the cluster of leather bands and carefully removed them. “I thought-- I thought you'd...” This time, it was his turn to cry. His chest felt heavy, and each sob that took him aggravated his wound. However, he couldn't stop himself. Relief washed over him the all the same as his shame.

“My father tried to bury me,” Prompto said into the silence, though he could sense the four of them waiting with bated breath for the great reveal. “He was sadistic. He was... obsessed with power. Rather than kill me, he must have--” Prompto choked out a pained laugh. “I don't know how else Ardyn could have convinced him to let him turn me into Magitek,” he mumbled, avoiding saying the words aloud.

“But you're...” Noctis started, reaching for Prompto with disbelief, eyes locked on the barcode etched into his skin.

“I'm an MT,” he said with a shrug, sniffling, “but I guess I'm still a little human, too. I don't die out in the sun, which is nice. I don't know, but... I think-- It's really hazy, but I think my mom took me from that place, I think she got me out before I--”

Prompto reached up to wipe his eyes, but stopped when Luna did it for him, kissing his cheek and calming him with a gentle voice.

“Give the kid some rest,” Gladio interjected, shaking his head as he clearly wrestled with all this newfound information. He clapped Ignis on the shoulder with one massive hand and then jerked his thumb towards the door. “Let's go, majesty. There's still a ton of people waiting for an address from the future king. The camera crews are already piling in.”

Reluctantly, Noctis untangled himself from Prompto. He didn't want to go, but if he was going to be king, there were responsibilities he was bound to. Frowning, he pulled the florist in for a kiss, caressing his wet cheeks and meeting his puffy gaze. “Don't go anywhere,” he breathed.

Prompto tried not to laugh too hard, masking his sorrow and need with humor. “I'm pretty sure I'm stuck here, majesty.”

“You're staying then, m'lady?” Aranea asked, glancing to Luna.

“Yes, Aranea. Thank you.”

“Alright. I'll be outside if you need me.”

Once the door was closed and Lunafreya was alone with Prompto, she let out a deep breath and turned to him. "I am... so happy to see you safe," she said as she caught his tired gaze. The curtain in Noctis' room remained open, and the evening breeze still caught black fabrics in the wind, the winter brought on by Shiva moments earlier now giving way to the natural order of things, welcoming back the spring. "Shall I help you lie back down?"

"Yeah. Please..."

Luna noted how he looked away, his eyes now fixated on his brand. She helped him rest against the pillows, then pressed one more soft kiss to his forehead, trying to ease him out of the stupor.

"Y'know," Prompto yawned, finally meeting her eyes with his own. "When I first spoke to Noctis on the phone about me and him, and...  _us_. He told me that it didn't matter where I was born." The Oracle smiled as the florist recalled the memory, seeing something akin to joy slowly dawning on his freckled features. "I think I knew then that I wanted to be close to him."

"He certainly has a charm," Luna agreed. "Now, get some sleep so you can recover. We will all be here when you wake."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm seriously hoping that this wasn't too terrible. While I didn't want to rush the confrontation with Ardyn, I honestly didn't want him/his grudge with Noct to be the focus of things because a. we all know the story and b. it's not really the story i was aiming to tell. I wanted to wrap up the loose ends, but also get us to a point where in the next chapter we can see how all this new information about Prompto effects his relationship with Luna and Noctis... Also, there's a wedding we need to get to, lol.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has read, commented, kudos, and stuck with me. you can find me on tumblr as mvgitek! I'd love to hear from you. <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _My heart is but a dragon-fly,_  
>  _My heart is but a mouse,_  
>  _My heart is but a haughty snail_  
>  _In a little stony house._  
>  _Your hand was honey-comb to heal,_  
>  _Your voice a web to bind._  
>  _You were a Mending Flower to me_  
>  _To cure my heart and mind._  
>  \-- The Mending Flower by Vachel Lindsay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuh... Sorry there's no smut in this chapter???? It's next chapter, I promise.  
> But there's lots of cute comfort and all that jazz, and plot, and A WEDDING FINALLY.
> 
> I'm sorry it took so long. I've been really sick, which sucks because it's my birthday soon and I'm gonna be hopped up on Nyquil or something.

“Hey. You awake?”

It'd been a few days now since Prompto's ordeal and he was recovering well thanks to Luna's intervention. It'd been slow, and the blond was restless having to sit in bed for so long, especially when he wasn't used to being waited on and cared for with attentions expected of royal attendants.

Even though he was excited to be back on his feet, Prompto was in no hurry to move forward with things he would rather avoid. He wanted to go back to the flower shop-- he'd spoken to Ceres on the phone yesterday and it seemed that his adoptive father would be back in Lucis soon, notably in time for the delayed royal wedding. Prompto would be glad for his help finalizing the floral arrangements, especially now that his injury has set him behind, along with the unexpected new responsibilities he'd taken on. Luna, Noct, and Ignis had sat down with him to suggest he make a formal address as the heir to Niflheim. Prompto wasn't thrilled with the idea, but he knew that this was something he couldn't avoid. Once he was better recovered, he'd seek out Ignis' advice on how to proceed, the advisor had already offered his help in crafting a speech.

Lunafreya and Noctis had done a beautiful job handling the public address and news appearances dealing with the death of Emperor Aldercapt. They'd both promised that his successor would provide a statement regarding the future of Niflhiem as soon as possible and that the wedding would proceed as planned. Ignis worked on putting Prompto's paperwork and family tree in order, and Gladio promised they'd start up their morning workouts again once he was feeling better.

“Y-yeah. I'm up.”

Prompto pushed some of the blankets off of himself, set down his cellphone and leaned forward off the pillows he'd propped against the headboard. He smiled, raising a hand in greeting to the King.

Noctis returned the gesture, closing the door behind him before crossing the room. They'd moved Prompto out of Noctis' room and into a guestroom. It was a little smaller than the King's chambers, but still provided a view of the gardens. Noctis, Luna, Ignis, and Gladio all had flowers sent up to the room on occasion, different shapes and sizes of vases decorating the sill, soaking up the sun let in by open curtains. Prompto kept busy by watching their progress, indicating to attendants and visitors when to change water or clip the stems. Aside from that, phone games kept him occupied.

“D'you wanna get dressed? Luna was thinking about having lunch served in the garden. Maybe you're up for it?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Prompto smiled, rubbing the remnants of sleep from his eyes just as he felt Noctis approach. “I really need to get out of this bed.”

The King grinned, balancing one knee on the mattress and leaning over Prompto. He reached out, knuckles caressing the hollow of his cheek, fingers tracing his jaw.

“Thought I was supposed to be getting dressed,” Prompto mumbled, but his eyes had already drifted shut and he was leaning in to Noctis' touch. The King had been so busy since the funeral, and they'd hardly had a moment alone together. Even though they were all living under the same roof, the florist had hardly seen Noctis or Luna while they both prepared for the wedding and made appearances before the Lucian public.

Noctis hummed, taking in the smell of sleep on Prompto's skin, feeling warmth radiate off his bare skin. “I hardly get to see you,” he rumbled between kisses, dragging his lips down to Prompto's soft throat to taste, sucking gently with intent to leave a blue and purple trace. He smiled at the noises coming from the florist, realizing now that he was just as attention-starved.

“I know,” Prompto replied, the words coming out a breathy sigh. Noctis felt him sink back against the pillows and he made chase, lips moving to his ear. He nibbled at the lobe while his hand moved down Prompto's unclothed chest, thumb finding his nipple ring. He hooked one finger through the silver jewellery and tugged, growling possessively into the blond's ear. His hands, however steered clear of the white, knotted scar tissue raised near his abdomen.

“Mm'never gonna get outta bed if you--”

The King pulled away, lips curling almost deviously. It was difficult to let up, but the exasperated and flushed expression on Prompto's face was worth absence of touch. He was... pleased to know that he was the cause of such desperation.

While the florist got his breathing under control, Noctis went to the wardrobe and picked out some clothes for him. It was warm now, spring already making way for summer, so he looked for one of the florist's favourite tank tops and some light, grey workout pants.

Prompto was still tender, but he was able to bring himself to the edge of the mattress and slowly stand.

"Let me help you out, babe." Noctis brought the neatly folded clothes over to the bed and let Prompto lean a heavy hand on his shoulder while he stepped, one leg at a time into his sweats.

“This is super un-kingly of you,” Prompto joked, but his laugh was affectionate, appreciative.

* * *

“Awwh, I missed you guys,” Prompto cooed, leaning on Noctis' arm while bent slightly at the waist, extending his hand for Umbra and Pryna to sniff at and lick. Lunafreya was waiting, already sitting down on wrought iron patio furniture, looking absolutely radiant in the early summer sun.

Prompto was glad for the fresh air, elated to see the dogs and grateful for some time alone with both Noctis and Luna. He grinned, waving to the Oracle and moving to approach. Noctis held him steady, gripping his elbow with one hand while his other arm curled around his waist.

Luna stood to meet them, kissing Prompto on the lips while her pale eyes inspected him. “You're looking much better,” she praised, lips touching his forehead before she moved to greet Noctis with a kiss. “Soon you'll be walking on your own, I'd think.”

“Luna--” Prompto started, wanting to say something along the lines of thanks, but he'd already thanked the Oracle countless times since he'd first woken up after the chapel. Of course, she hushed him and turned towards the table.

“I'd expect that you're hungry,” she said.

* * *

“Before the wedding, before I make my address, I want to go back to the shop for a bit while I'm still part of the... common-folk. There's still some things I need to get together, and Ceres is coming back from Altissia the day after tomorrow.” Prompto took a drink of water, trying to discreetly pass food down under the table to Umbra and Pryna.

“Ceres?” Luna asked, though her rosy lips smoothed into a tight line once she noticed where Prompto's hands were. “Darling, we talked about--”

“C'mon,” Noctis interjected, “a little bit of bacon isn't going to hurt. They like it.”

“You're spoiling them,” Luna insisted, sighing.

“Ceres is the owner of Argentum's,” Prompto clarified, though he obediently retracted his hand and set both his palms down on the table, a faint flush on his skin. “My... uh, unofficial adoptive dad.”

Luna smiled, seemingly forgiving about the dogs. “Well, be sure he knows that there is a wedding invitation extended to him.”

“Right,” Prompto said, letting out a breath. He wondered what Ceres would think once he found out about his boy's true heritage.

* * *

It was a relief to be up and out of bed for good, and although Prompto was adjusting to living in the Citadel, he couldn't deny the comfort he felt stepping back inside Argentum's. Ceres had been home for a few days now, and business had resumed as usual at the flower shop. Prompto was handling the last of the wedding arrangements, so Ceres was able to handle day-to-day operations at the shop.

It was just about closing time when Prompto arrived, sidestepping so that the last few customers could leave. Once they were alone, the florist flicked the lock on the door and let out a contented sigh. For a moment, he lingered there, thinking about what he was going to say and how Ceres would react.

“Prompto,” the man smiled wide, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He looked older than Prompto remembered, with his greying hair and the deep lines beginning to appear on his forehead. Still, the florist went to him.

Ceres took the florist's hand to shake, then squeezed his shoulders in greeting. “You're acting as if I've been gone for a lifetime.”

“It... It feels like it. I have so much to tell you,” Prompto said with a laugh. “A lot happened while you were in Altissia; since I took the job for Pri-- Er, King Noctis. Let's... Let's go out for dinner or something and catch up. My treat.”

Seeing his 'father' again had made Prompto so happy, just being in the flower shop again gave the blond a feeling of normalcy. For awhile, he could forget about the revelations of the past few days; despite confessing what had happened to Ceres, the man had accepted and even had seemed happy for him.

“So, you'll come to the wedding then?” Prompto asked, rising up in his chair just slightly.

“Of course,” Ceres said after he'd swallowed. “Let's call it our last big job together, Prompto. What do you say?”

Something tightened in Prompto's chest, but he nodded. His last job with Ceres? Their last project together as father and son. His last job at Argentum's. Everything _really_ was changing.

“Yeah,” Prompto agreed quietly, nervous. “Sounds great.”

“Don't sound too excited. Now. Tell me what you've put together for the Oracle's bouquet.”

* * *

“Are you sure I can't call you a car?”

Prompto and Ceres lingered at the stoop of Prompto's complex while the boy fished for his keys.

“Prompto, I've lived here my entire life. I've just returned from a trip across the country, I think I can handle walking two blocks.”

“If you say so,” the florist said with a shrug, producing his keys from his pocket. He was about to ascend the steps, when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned around, letting Ceres pull him into a tight hug. It wasn't like them to hug; even when Prompto was younger he could hardly remember such displays of affection.

  
“Prompto, my boy.” Ceres pat the florist's back and held him there, and Prompto relaxed into the feeling. “No matter what you've learned up there in the Citadel, or how your life is going to change moving forward, you're still my son.”

Again, Prompto's chest felt tight. He nodded against Celes' shoulder and blinked as tears began to sting his eyes. He would try to remember this, try to hold on to that piece of his own identity. “I won't forget,” he said, voice cracking slightly.

After he'd packed his things and prepared all of his potted plants to be transported to the Citadel, Prompto spent his last night in his apartment doing the things he liked the most. He took a bath in his mouldy tub, chain smoked on the balcony, and read through the comics he'd already blown through countless times. Prompto took photographs of the humble home come the morning, not wanting forget his time here.

* * *

Prompto frowned, staring at himself in the mirror with reservation. He didn't look like himself, not with the attendants bustling around him, lifting his arms, touching his face and hair. They fastened this, tightened that, smoothed and straightened anything they could get their hands on.

“Whenever you're ready Excellency, we'll have someone escort you to the Hall.”

“R-right. Thanks.”

Prompto still didn't like the title, but after today he supposed that he wouldn't hear it anymore. Today was his first _and last_ day as Prompto Aldercapt, the ninety-fifth Emperor of Niflheim.

He wished that Noctis, or Luna, or both of them were here, but they were all busy preparing for the wedding. Even Ignis and Gladio had their jobs to do, and Prompto felt their absence greatly. Ignis had helped him to prepare his address, and although he would have the words in front of him, the Emperor still felt less than confident about delivering the speech.

Who he saw in the mirror did not reflect the way he felt; even after all the time he'd spent recovering in bed, he still did not know what those feelings were. He'd uncovered so many truths about himself these pest weeks, but none of them brought him closer to coming up with an answer. Was he an Emperor? Was he an MT? Was he _human_? Once, he'd simply say he was a florist, but soon he wouldn't be the boy behind the counter at Argentum's. _What was he_? His father's son? Ceres' son? What about Luna and Noctis? Now that they were getting married, where did that leave him?

The traditional regalia of Niflheim's Emperor weighed heavy on his shoulders. Swaths of white and blood red cloaked his small frame, adorned with heavy bronze and shining silver. The royal tailors had adjusted everything so that there would be no question regarding fit and yet Prompto couldn't help but feel as if these clothes were not meant for him to wear. He wore the sleeves short, forgoing the cowl due to the heat, hands and wrists bared to show his brand. Prompto wanted everyone who watched to see, he wanted to assure the people of Niflheim that he was not his predecessor, that no one else would ever be marked as he was.

Prompto stared into the mirror and felt himself grow weary. He touched his face, fingers brushing over freckled skin as if he had to feel to know that he was truly here. He knew what it was like to be trapped inside your own body, and in a way he still was; unaccustomed to his own flesh and the blood of his predecessors, fearful of whatever darkness still remained inside of him. The bright blue, tired eyes in the mirror acted as better doors than windows. He was not the ruler of an empire, nor would he bend the knee as a soldier under its banners. Desperately, he wanted simply to be himself, but now he didn't know who, or what that was. Frowning, he glanced to the vanity where his late father's crown was kept, silver and gleaming, waiting.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, and Prompto immediately became flustered at the prospect of someone seeing him dressed this way. “Come in,” he called regardless, but did not expect the door to open to Gentiana, Lunafreya, and Aranea.

The sight of the Glacian made him flinch, guilt overtaking him and nearly causing him to forget all about how Luna was dressed-- already in her wedding gown with Aranea holding up the excess fabric as they all came inside.

“Uhm.” This was the second time Prompto had seen her in her dress, but she still looked stunning in it, there was no doubt.

“I'm sorry that it's only me,” Luna began, but Aranea cut her off as she finished arranging the bride's gown at her feet and took her bouquet, setting it on top of the vanity next to Prompto's forgotten crown.

“It'd be bad luck for the King to see you before the wedding,” the silver-haired woman reminded, crossing her arms over her chest and taking her place by the door like any guard would.

The Oracle laughed lightly, “yes.” Exactly.

“I thought you might want to not be alone,” Lunafreya ventured, watching with growing concern as Prompto rushed to the vanity, dragging the chair set in front of it over and helping the Oracle sit. She shook her head, touching his cheek.

“You know,” Aranea started up again from her post, red lips curled into a smirk. Apparently, the thought of Prompto fussing over Luna amused her. “Emperors are actually held at a higher honour than Oracles, even Kings.”

Prompto frowned, bottom lip jutting in what might have been a pout as he narrowed his eyes at the dragoon.

“Oh, Aranea. Why don't you wait outside?” Luna managed, clearly attempting to cover up her quiet laughter.

The warrior just shrugged, but bowed her head and flashed a wink Prompto's way before heading out the door. “See you later then, Yo _ur Excellency_.”

Prompto huffed, but Luna tipped his face back towards hers, smiling apologetically. “Aranea tends to tease the people she's grown fond of,” she explained gently.

“Hmph,” The florist glanced towards the door one more time. As soon as they were alone, the florist practically fell apart. He shook his head, reaching for one of Luna's hands. “I'm scared,” he admitted.

The Oracle closed both her hands around Prompto's and offered sympathy in her expression. “King Noctis confessed the same when his father passed away,” she revealed quietly, “but he is overcoming it, Prompto. He wears the ring and he evoked the blessings of The Six. You--”

She paused, looking to her left, to where Gentiana stood waiting. Her features warmed and she waited.

Prompto followed Luna's gaze, watching the Glacian and realizing what was expected of him. “Uhm, Gentiana--” He began almost timidly, stopping when the woman lift her head to watch him, nodding so that he knew to continue. “So... About... You, and what happened all those years ago. I'm so sorry, on behalf of my father, on behalf of... his father. My country, and my people. I was powerless back then, but--”

The Glacian's expression was unreadable as she watched Prompto struggle through a thick curtain of dark, long lashes. She let him go on, judging the weight and truth of his words before finally holding up one hand to silence him. “You are not the past, and yet the shape of the future lies heavy on your shoulders. Alone, you can accomplish little. Stand by the Oracle, stand by the True King and trust in providence.”

Prompto balked, doing his best to deconstruct Gentiana's words. Even if he truly did carry the future with him, he had to admit that hearing her icy voice cut through the chains of his upbringing made it easier to hear. “Right,” he exhaled, feeling Luna take his hand. “I can do it.”

A smile crossed the Glacian's snow-white features and she practically glided across the room towards the vanity. In cold fingers, she plucked the silver crown from its resting place and brought it to Prompto. Nervously, Prompto bowed his head and lowered his gaze, allowing Gentiana to fit it over his shock of blond hair. The silver adornment fit more like a circlet than a crown, thin and delicate with a blood red ruby in the centre, resting upon his brow. He hadn't wanted to wear the accursed thing, but with The Glacian's blessing, the weight of silver seemed a little easier to carry.

“I'm ready,” he breathed out, nodding to Gentiana and the glancing down to Lunafreya, whom he helped to her feet.

Luna smiled, kissing his crowned forehead and giving him a proper once over. “You look beautiful, and the King would think no different.”

“No way, Luna. You're the bride, this is about you.” Prompto moved away, fetching Luna's bouquet of orange, yellow, blue, and violet. Latana flowers and Sylleblossoms, just as she'd wanted. “Here. We'll head out together.”

* * *

Noctis stood at the altar, nervously straightening his collar. Gods, he couldn't believe that this was finally happening. He tried not to let his apprehension show, reminding himself that the ceremony was the easy part. It was Prompto who would have the most difficult responsibilities today as he addressed practically all of Eos from here in the Citadel. The most that Noctis could do was stand behind him, united with Luna and with Ignis and Gladiolus on his side.

The chapel looked immaculate, decorated from floor to ceiling with Sylleblossoms and greenery, bringing the views of the royal gardens inside its very walls. The summer sun casting brilliant colours through the stained glass windows around them. The pews were packed with royal audience and a very select group of news stations were permitted inside the Citadel strictly for the ceremony. The music hadn't started yet, so the King glanced over his shoulder once, making fleeting eye contact with Gladio and Ignis, dressed in their new Kingsglaive attire and standing at attention on his right, to his left Prompto with his hands clasped neatly behind his back, draped in Imperial robes with his features pale as snow against blood red fabrics. For a moment, their eyes met in a secret shared between only themselves and the Oracle.

Behind them both, Gentiana waited. Their union was to be ordained by her, blessed by a Goddess in the flesh.

The first few notes of violin filled the sunlit chapel and Noctis swallowed down, taking a deep breath. He stood up straighter, watching as the great chapel doors opened to reveal his bride. Luna-- escorted by Ravus and Aranea, as beautiful as ever. Her ashen hair twisted into a cascade of braids and curls, radiant in her gown, and practically floating down the aisle. It was as Prompto had said, that the moon got her light from the sun. Luna was practically clothed in the golden rays, illuminated as if she wore a crown of stars. In her delicate hands she carried a simple bouquet of Sylleblossoms and the golden flowers he'd recognized from the cape.

Noctis nearly choked, but the noise he'd thought he was making actually came from his left, and poor Prompto was wiping at his eyes with his fingers, catching tears before they fell down freckled cheeks. Of course Prompto would cry.

When she stepped up to the altar, Noctis took her hand. He felt Luna's warmth spread through his own fingers and swell inside of his chest, growing bigger until he felt as if he might burst. He loved her now just as much as he had when they'd met twelve years ago, and he'd love her forever.

' _Hey_ ,' he mouthed beneath a crescendo of piano and string. Luna simply shook her head as if to tell the King to smarten up, but she was smiling. Her husband to be looked as he should, regal and handsome, dressed in the traditional Lucian black and gold.

It was Prompto who stepped behind the Oracle, smiling somewhat crookedly as he gently relieved her of her bouquet so that she could take Noctis' hands in both her own. The music quieted and Gentiana began to speak. The Glacian's voice filled the chapel with a gentle, yet absolute lilt. She blessed their union under the eyes of the The Six, by the will of the stars. The Oracle and the King of the Stone, bound together.

Noctis couldn't move fast enough, slipping off a glove before he cupped Luna's jaw. He smiled, meeting her pale blues with his own steely gaze. The King looked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time and realizing that there was no reason to be afraid of what was ahead. He stepped closer, bringing her in for a loving kiss, the public's applause hardly on his mind.

* * *

“Remember what we spoke about. Here on the second page--”

Ignis placed the papers into Prompto's hands, pointing out a highlighted portion of the speech, his hand resting on the Emperor's shoulder as they walked.

“Yeah, Ignis. Thanks.”

“ _Yes_ , Ignis and _thank-you_ ,” the advisor corrected, stern but not unkind.

The sound of footfalls echoed through the hall as Prompto, Ignis, Gladio, Noctis, Ravus, and Luna made their way to the back of the Citadel. Now that the King and Oracle were wed, they would play host to the Emperor of Niflheim as he addressed both his own country and the people of Lucis. The address would be made from the balcony, so that the gathering crowd might catch a glimpse of both the newlywed royalty and the new heir to Niflheim.

As the entourage approached the great doors, Gladio slipped through first, followed by Ravis. The two of them would take their posts and make sure the balcony was secure before allowing the royalty through. Ignis hung back, schooling Prompto on some last minute speaking techniques before Noctis finally spoke up.

“Ignis, can the three of us have a minute?”

“Of course.” The advisor nodded and straightened his glasses before heading out to join the guard.

“Guys,” Prompto turned to both the King and the Oracle, shaking his head and weakly proclaiming. “I can't... I'm not--” Distressed, the florist gestured to himself, the clothes that were much too much for him, the silver weighing on his brow. “I'm not an Emperor,” he exhaled, fingers nearly crumpling the papers he held. “I just grow flowers. I'm...”

“Hush dear heart,” Lunafreya cooed, reaching out to run a hand through his hair, trying to calm him. “You will do beautifully, I'm sure of it. Your heart is in the right place and your intentions are good.”

Noctis nodded, stepping close and planting a kiss on the blond's flushed, freckled cheek. “You charmed both Luna and I, you can charm a few more people.”

“A-an entire nation!?” Prompto practically whined, dropping his forehead against Noct's temple and reaching blindly for The Queen's hand. “I can't.”

“Prompto.” Noctis gently pulled away, letting Luna comfort the florist while he reached into his pocket. Pausing, he caught Luna's eye and waited for her nod of approval before producing the small box inside. “Luna and I want you to have this.”

“A gift,” the Oracle said, lifting Prompto's hand so that it was level with his chest. Gently, she held his wrist in place. Meanwhile, Noctis opened the box and produced a simply silver wedding band identical to his own and the Queen's. “Since we couldn't have a proper ceremony.”

Noctis smiled, carefully slipping the ring onto Prompto's finger with Luna's help. “To remind you that we're right beside you.”

“And,” Luna added, “that we love you dearly.”

The florist stared, expecting to be weighed down by yet another band of silver, and yet... Here he still stood.

* * *

“It will take time,” Prompto spoke into the microphone, hands pressed to the podium for support. He tried not to look at the crowd or the cameras, he tried to think about the people at his back, the people who loved him. “Things will not be easy for our great country, but I want to assure you that _I am not my father._ I want you to be assured that the war will end and that the Empire will no longer crumble under one man's corrupt desire for power. I-- I will do everything in my power to reverse the damage done, and I will begin this by halting the research on, and production of Magitek Infantry. I will return governing power in Accordo to the hands of Secretary Camelia Claustra. Most importantly, the province of Tenebrae will receive autonomy under the command of the noble Lord Ravus Nox Fleuret, brother to the Oracle and Her Majesty Queen Lunafreya Nox Fleuret of Lucis. Temporary provincial governments answering to the crown will be set up in Cartanica, Galahd, and Gralea until formal elections can be held.”

“As I said, these things will take time. My father did not raise me with the expectations meant to be placed upon a ruler and seeing as such, I... I am like all of you. I grew up in Lucis, an apprentice to a florist. I am hardly a leader. This is why...”

Prompto paused, taking a moment to draw breath. He lowered his gaze to the podium and stared at his hands, the hands of a lower class, working man. Dirt forever caked beneath his fingernails from sifting through rich soil, a brand eternally carved into his skin marking him as a pawn in a game much bigger than he. Frowning, he looked at the new ring on his finger, watching it catch the sunlight and blinding him with its light.

“...I renounce my title of Emperor and bequeath all land, citizens, military, and assets to the Kingdom of Lucis. I grant His Capable Majesty Noctis Lucis Caelum the fourteen hundredth King of Lucis my title and properties. I--”

He faltered, reminding himself that this was not him giving up, simply doing what was best for his people. Prompto didn't dare look over his shoulder to see Noctis, or Luna's reaction. It was only Ignis and Gladio who knew, and they wouldn't have approved it hadn't they thought it wasn't something Noctis would be able to handle.

“I will not abandon you. I will not leave my people in their time of need. With His Majesty's permission, I will devote my energy towards those displaced by my father's senseless war. I will work with Crownsguard and former Imperial Military forces to dismantle the Garrisons and Magitek production facilities. I will work with the citizens of Insomnia to help reunite refugees with their families and build better, safer places to live. I want to stress, again that this will take time... But, I swear by The Six, in the presence of the King, the Oracle, and the Crystal that I will do whatever I can.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It is more natural to me, lying down._  
>  _Then the sky and I are in open conversation,_  
>  _And I shall be useful when I lie down finally:_  
>  _Then the trees may touch me for once, and the flowers have time for me._  
>  \-- I Am Vertical by Sylvia Plath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long. I'm finally not sick anymore, but work got really busy. 
> 
> Uhm. I think this might be the end of the fic, but I left it open because I might add an epilogue. I'm not sure. Tell me what you think in the comments?
> 
> The... smut was very challenging this time around. Please be merciful. Threesomes are difficult, lmao.
> 
> I'm mvgitek on tumblr, and thank you so much for reading.

Prompto raised the viewfinder to his eye, turning the focus ring slowly as he zeroed in on the couple. After the ceremony and his speech, there had been a few uncomfortable minutes where the florist stood on the other side of the lens. For posterity's sake, his portrait was taken; the first and last portraits of himself as an Emperor along with Noctis and Luna's wedding photographs. Now that he was finally able to change his clothes (into the suit Noctis had bought for him!) and take his place where he was the most comfortable.

The newly wed King and Queen looked beautiful during their first dance. They swept across the marble floor, framed so exquisitely between the guidelines on Prompto's viewfinder. A click of the shutter and the florist sighed, feeling something flutter in his chest. He was so head over heels for both of them that it was bordering ridiculous.

“You look beautiful,” Noctis murmured, pulling Luna close by the small of her waist. The two of them swayed slowly in a lazy circle to the music, the onlooking court and crowd just static in the background. The Queen's dress a fluttering of soft white, green stems and blue blossoms woven into the stream of her golden hair. She turned her smile to the juncture of Noctis' jaw and inhaled the King's earthy cologne. The King himself had his steely eyes set on the scope of Prompto's camera lens.

Later on, Noctis danced with a flustered Iris. Gladio and Aranea had apparently gotten themselves locked in a discreet drinking game while Ignis, (possibly amused) looked on. Prompto saw all this as his gaze swept the dance floor, one hand in Luna's and the other on her waist as she happily taught him how to waltz.

* * *

“Man, it's taking... _Forever_ for them to get Luna out of that dress,” Noctis complained, dropping onto the mattress with a huff. Finally, the formalities could be dropped and the three of them could have some much-needed time alone. Guests had slowly trickled out and the reception died down. News crews had finally left them all alone and the Citadel was finally quiet, save for the cleaning staff who still worked to return everything to its normal state, and the attendants who were currently helping the Queen with her elaborate attire.

“Well Noct,” Prompto said, a little dizzy from the champagne he'd been drowning his nerves in. “A wedding dress is a complicated... thing, and... I mean--” He was clumsily undressing himself, doing his best to take care with the expensive suit. “I'm happy to be out of those stupid robes...”

The King grinned, watching Prompto from where he sat. “C'mere,” he said, amused with Prompto's dishevelled state. He watched the blond make his way over, his dress shirt open and his pants undone. He hiccuped, but still slid easy into Noctis' lap. Noctis kissed one rosy cheek and pushed the pressed fabric from his shoulders, helping him get his arms out of the sleeves.

“You're a little drunk. Aren't you?”

Prompto hummed, setting to work helping Noctis undress as well. “Almost there,” he admitted. “I... was nervous.”

“I know,” Noctis rumbled, pulling away slightly and moving so that Prompto could more easily deal with his clothes. “But you surprised me,” he continued. “Relinquishing everything to Luna and I? Mm... Why didn't you tell me ahead of time?”

Prompto shook his head. “I... I didn't want you to try and convince me to rule.”

When Noctis didn't say anything, Prompto frowned and slid from his lap, moving to his suit jacket and checking the inside pockets for his cigarettes.

“I did the right thing, though. Didn't I? Ignis advised--” He tapped a cigarette from the carton with a finger, gripping it with his teeth and pulling before nodding towards the balcony door-- he'd never smoke inside the Citadel.

Noctis sighed, drumming his fingers on his thighs. “Prompto. I'd never try to convince you to do anything you didn't want to. None of this was fair to you, you weren't born into it like I was. I've been preparing for this all my life. You--”

“I was supposed to be... Nothing,” Prompto said with a shrug, heading towards the balcony doors, words muffled by the unlit cigarette. “It's still... hard to think about.”

The King watched as Prompto left the room, eyes catching the barcode etched in stark black, extremely visible against white, freckled skin. The florist's upbringing was still difficult to stomach for him as well, he had no idea that the empire was behind something so barbaric. He would have to do everything in his power to help make Prompto's promises to the people of Niflhiem a reality. He was fortunate to be surrounded by people who would stand by him on that regard. Looking down at the ring on his finger, he took a deep breath. He had Luna, he had Prompto, Ignis, Gladio, Iris, even Ravus and Aranea. He had his father's blessing, and that of The Six to lighten the new burdens placed on his shoulders.

He smiled, realizing now that he could share these blessings with the people he cherished.

A knock on the door took him away from his thoughts and Noctis called for whoever it was to enter. The open door revealed Luna, dressed in a simple white, flowing dress that looked soft enough for sleeping in. Her expression was a little more reserved than usual, but she still smiled when her gaze met Noctis'.

Closing the door behind her with a quiet click, she crossed the room without a word and took Prompto's place in the King's lap. It was then that Noctis noticed the slit cut into her nightgown to reveal one smooth leg, the cut dangerously high above her thigh.

“Do you feel any different?” She asked, cupping his face in her delicate hands while Noctis slid one of his own up her exposed leg and thigh. She couldn't help but wonder where Prompto was, but didn't quite get to voicing the question just yet. For now, the Queen just studied Noctis' features as if she hadn't just spent the majority of her evening with him.

“I feel... fortunate,” the King replied, taking in the sight of Luna as if he was seeing her for the first time. He leaned forward to kiss her, feeling her hands move to deal with the rest of his clothing, slowly as if he were something fragile. She was smiling as they kissed, and she even took the initiative to deepen it. The two of them were slow and careful, languid and unhurried. Noctis' fingers slid beneath the thin straps of Luna's gown and guided them off her shoulders. This was the first time that the two of them would be together. Now that they were married, there were no more stipulations, now that they were alone, they could finally have a moment.

Except they weren't alone.

The sound of the balcony door closing had Luna and Noctis pull apart almost frantically. Prompto, barely dressed, leaned in the doorway with a grin on his lips and something shining in his electric blue gaze. “Don't stop on my account,” he insisted. Then, he silently made his way to the bathroom, thinking that he'd brush his teeth. He definitely didn't want Luna to taste tobacco on his breath and so he'd get himself all fresh for their royal majesties.

Luna's long eyelashes fanned over her cheekbones and she exhaled deeply, feeling Noctis' hands settle on her hips. Her heart was hammering in her chest and she had half a mind to reprimand Prompto for startling her like that.

“You okay?” Noctis was touching her face, genuinely concerned.

“Yes. Oh. Yes,” Lunafreya sighed, planting a quick kiss to Noctis' lips. “But Prompto is absolutely in trouble.”

The King laughed, his hand smoothing liquid fabric as he rested it upon her thigh again, this time daring to inch his fingers higher. He couldn't tell the difference between the silk of her gown and the softness of her creamy skin. “Mmhm,” he hummed in agreement. “I'm pretty sure there's a law somewhere about interrupting marital bliss. If not, I'll make one.”

Rather than chastise him for his awful sense of humor, the Queen pulled Noctis into another warm kiss, drawing his tongue into her mouth like Prompto had done to her the night they'd fooled around on the couch-- she'd learned a thing or two from the florist and his devilish tongue. Noctis' surprise brought out a little bit of smugness in the Oracle, though she couldn't help but shudder as his hand crept ever closer to that warm spot between her open thighs.

“Marital bliss,” Prompto whistled. At some point, he'd found a spot on the bed. He'd brought with him a few things from the bathroom and there was the fresh burn of mint on his tongue when he dragged it across the side of Noctis' throat, chest pressed to his back.

Panting, Noctis pulled away from his kiss with Luna and the Oracle was greeted with the flushed face and hazy eyes of a fortunate king and the hungry, delighted expression of someone much better equipped to orchestrate what would happen next.

Maybe Prompto couldn't run an empire, but he was good at growing flowers, taking pictures, and _other things_.

“Here, majesty.” Prompto was practically purring, sliding his hand up Noctis' arm and holding his wrist, guiding his hand further up Luna's skirts. “I'll talk you through it,” he promised, but the words dripped with something a little more sinful as they drifted into Noctis' ear. The florist draped himself over Noctis' back, chin resting on his shoulder while his eyes flicked to Luna. He waited for her nod of confirmation, his words from their first time together still standing-- if at anytime she wanted it to stop, Gods as their witnesses, they would stop.

Grinning, Prompto pulled away and moved to the other side of the bed. “Lay on your back, Luna. We've got you.” He watched as Noctis took Luna by the hips and the two of them helped her lie back against the pillows. Before he pulled away, Prompto stole a kiss from the Queen and reached up to open the clip holding her hair up, running his fingers through spun gold. Prompto moaned softly into her mouth as he drank in the taste of an endless springtime, Luna forever moving him, holding the key to his first real memory. She made him feel human, she made his heart ache in a way he didn't think he'd ever be able to convey with words. He would have lingered there if Noctis didn't tug him away by the scruff of his own blond locks, practically smashing their lips together with a grunt.

The King sank his teeth into Prompto's lip before they parted and huffed out a few heavy breaths. Something about seeing the florist tend to Luna had kickstarted something inside of him. Prompto had been his first true physical desire, the first time he'd felt something so clear and primal... and Luna. Luna was the perhaps the first constant in his life that he'd taken seriously, that he hadn't shrugged off with his trademark nonchalance. She had been there for him when he'd been young, and through twelve long years they grew together, no matter how far apart they had been.

Breathless, Prompto caught Noctis eye and flashed him a sultry smile before moving to lie down beside Luna. He rest on his side, propping himself up on one elbow. “Let's see what you've got, majesty,” he challenged.

Luna couldn't help but laugh, marvelling at how easy Prompto could make a situation that might have been daunting had it just been Noctis and she. She followed the florist's gaze to the king and put up her best mockery of expectation, only to have it fade away when Noctis' moved between her legs, spreading them gently with a caress of his hands. All this while Prompto leaned over and brought his open mouth to her neck, all lips teeth and tongue. He gently eased her nightgown down until it bunched somewhere below her stomach. She shuddered beneath his touch, feeling his own splayed fingers slip from her stomach up to her breasts, lips coming down to meet them. Prompto teased and mouthed at sensitive skin until he could feel her shudder, until her breaths turned into quiet little whimpers.

“C'mon Noct,” he mumbled against the warmth radiating off the Oracle's skin.

Finally, a gorgeous sound spilled from Luna's blush-coloured lips as Noctis pressed his thumb against her clit, a gentle rub of the warm wetness under the pad of his finger. For now, he just watched, swallowing hard as he took in her blissful expression, the way she tipped her head back and Prompto came up for air so that he could watch, too.

Eventually, the florist moved away from Luna completely and got comfortable behind Noctis again, his familiar weight at his back. “Keep going,” he encouraged, enjoying the way the king shuddered. Feeling mischievous, the florist dipped his hands down the front of Noctis' pants and boxer-briefs all the while giving his hips a good roll against his backside.

The King practically moaned, reminding himself that Prompto _was_ indeed in trouble, but focused most of his attentions on Luna slipping one, then two fingers inside. He pushed upwards into the wetness just as Prompto had advised, the florist sighing out dreamily when Luna responded with a shudder and a moan. “Don't forget about your thumb,” he mumbled, “keep up with that, too.”

“She's got a lot on her mind all the time,” Prompto sighed into Noctis' ear. “So you have to make sure she gets a chance to unwind.” He waited until the King nodded before pressing a kiss to his throat, his thumbs running circles on the hot skin just below Noctis' waistband. “So good, majesty.”

They went on like this until Luna's lithe body was arching off the bed, the curve of her spine so perfect that both the King and the florist fell in love all over again with the way her lips parted and her brow creased ever so gently.

“Ah... Dearest. E-enough, Noctis. Oh...”

Luna threw an arm over her eyes, vaguely aware of Prompto and Noctis sliding her nightgown off the rest of the way. Her chest rose up and down as she gulped down air, her other hand reaching blindly for the both of them.

“We're here,” Noctis assured, and Luna felt the mattress dip on her left. Her husband's voice sounded flustered and heavy, and the Queen opened her eyes to see Prompto tug Noctis' wrist behind him. Prompto glanced between the two of them before effortlessly sliding Noctis' wet fingers past his lips, having been aching for her taste since he could hear her voice filter through the balcony doors.

“Prompto,” Noctis almost whined as he watched from over his shoulder, and Luna, still breathless was somehow already expecting the gesture. Still, something stirred in her as she watched the florist's tongue clean the King's fingers, how he suckled every last bit of the mess from his skin with his eyes closed, his features relaxed and obviously pleased.

The florist sighed, licking his glistening lips when he was done and sliding his arms around Noctis' waist again. “I want you to fuck me.” It was his turn to whine now, pressing his face into the warm hollow of Noctis' throat to deliver the unnecessary plea.

Luna crumbled a little when Prompto expressed such vulnerability towards her husband, moved now when she realized that it'd been slightly selfish of them to not dote on the florist after his great revelation and his ordeal. Somehow, she gathered the strength to sit up, drawing her knees beneath her body, still feeling pleasantly damp between her legs. She kissed Noctis' bewildered expression and then the top of Prompto's soft hair, close enough to hear him utter a quiet 'please'.

“Babe,” the King sighed, exchanging an almost worried, but understanding glance with Luna before turning his head to mimic his wife. He planted a kiss on the crown of Prompto's head and gently eased away so that he could look at him. “Whatever you want.”

Prompto rocked back on his knees and tipped his head back before drawing a shuddering breath.

“Don't cry,” Noctis began, seeing that familiar tightening of the boy's jaw. He watched Luna take both their hands, taking note of the matching rings they wore.

“'M not--” Prompto lied, and Luna wordlessly helped him convince Noctis' by bringing their linked hands to the florist's cheek so that she could hold him still while she kissed him. Whatever tears that might have fallen captured by her plush lips.

“It's alright,” she cooed, then glanced down to what Prompto had brought from the bathroom. An idea struck her. “Come here. We have you, darling.”

Prompto sniffed, feeling Luna press something into his hands. His heart stuttered.

* * *

“A-are you sure?”

Prompto had wriggled out of his dress pants and panted harshly while Noctis' stroked him to hardness before rolling the condom over his length.

“I wouldn't have offered otherwise,” Luna said with a laugh. She touched the King's jaw and pulled him into a loving kiss. When they parted, the two of them shared a smile, a look of devotion which rivalled the one they'd given each other at the altar in their eyes.

The King hummed his approval and Luna went to kiss him again, but this time she slicked him with the lubricant Prompto had brought, coaxing a needy moan from his open mouth. When she was finished, she lie back down and tugged the florist with her.

The blond moved down, catching Lunafreya in a warm kiss while he rolled their hips together. His hands wandered, feeling familiar curves and silky skin. He groaned when she reached up to toy with his nipple piercing, finding the same delight in it as Noctis had, expressing her opinions on the naughty jewellery with a click of her tongue and a low whisper. “You _are_ a terrible boy,” she agreed with a comment he'd made that night at Noctis' home.

Prompto let out a breathless laugh, shaking while she teased him, supporting himself on one hand while the other went to the base of his sheathed cock. Grunting, he pushed inside that waiting heat and let his head drop to Luna's shoulder. She moaned when he started to move his hips, one hand coming up to smooth down his hair. Even though he'd tried to cover it up by brushing his teeth, Luna could smell the tobacco mixed with mint, shampoo, and Noctis' cologne-- it was just the way Prompto had always smelled and it was just as comforting as the touch of cologne her husband wore.

She looked to Noctis then, arching up to meet Prompto and finding his rhythm, moving slowly with him up until the King placed his hands on the blond's hips.

“Stay still,” Noctis instructed, his voice slipping up Prompto's curved spine and drifting to his ear just as the King thrust inside.

The florist made a quiet, strangled sound into the soft space above Luna's collarbone, but his voice truly tumbled into the pleasure he felt at both ends when Noctis started to move. The King set the pace for both of them, rocking firmly into Prompto and guiding his hips to move with Luna's.

“Good boy,” Noctis praised, sinking teeth into the florist's shoulder, his steely gaze meeting the queen's endless blue. She glowed with the light of a pale moon, and the King released Prompto only so that he could lean over to kiss her while he thrust into unbelievably tight heat.

Noctis' words washed over Prompto like gentle waves, a tingling in his brain and body. He was wrapped in heat, letting it envelop him and carry him through the almost unbearable pleasure forcing his eyes shut, his body nearly useless as he let Noctis guide him into pleasing Luna. Soft sounds of pleasure and bliss came from all three of them, and Prompto occasionally mumbled something desperate and pleading into the hollow of Luna's throat. She comforted him, curling fingers in his hair, her breaths and rapturous moans warm on the shell of his ear up until the king swallowed the rest of them.

It was no surprise that the florist came first, hands making fists in the sheets and Lunafreya drinking in his pleasured, weak little cries with her lips, tasting his relief while she reached her own climax. Prompto held her hips, feeling her arch beneath him, the sounds of her own pleasure sending shivers up his spine. Then felt Noctis' arm wrappee around his chest, the other taking his hip as he slammed forward again. He pulled Prompto upright and out, back flush with his chest while he finished, coming hard into waiting heat with a guttural cry.

Luna was damp with sweat, but pretty as ever when Prompto came back down to meet her while she still quivered with pleasure. Noctis eased his grip on him and helped him lie down beside her. The florist felt the mattress dip as the King settled on his other side. The three of them lay there like that for a long time, exchanging quiet, breathless kisses and sweet, gentle touches. Eventually, Prompto worked up the motivation to tie off the condom and toss it in the bin before flopping back down uselessly onto the bed.

“Better?” Noctis asked, slipping an arm low around his waist, just below Luna's.

Prompto nodded. “Yeah.”

“That's good to hear,” Lunafreya murmured, kissing his cheek and gently brushing the damp hair from his face. “You should both get some sleep,” she counselled. “We all have very busy days ahead.”

Noctis broke into a grin, his fingers twining with Luna's atop the tight skin of Prompto's abdomen. “You don't have to tell me,” he assured.

Prompto squirmed a little, if only to nestle himself deeper into the mattress. “I gave you guys a lot of work,” he yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth. “Have fun with it.”

Luna laughed while Noctis nipped at Prompto's already tender throat. “You're still on the hook,” he reminded. The Oracle hummed in agreement, “you're stuck with us, darling.”

“Mmm. Yessir.” Prompto sighed, completely fine with that. “Yes, m'am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, let me know if you wanna see an epilogue?!
> 
> In the meantime, I'll be uploading some outtakes and 'extra stuff' from my Come Around Sundown fic in the near future.
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING, COMMENTING, AND KUDOS-ING.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"As she came closer to him she noticed that there was a clean fresh scent of heather and grass and leaves about him, almost as if he were made of them. She liked it very much and when she looked into his funny face with the red cheeks and round blue eyes she forgot that she had felt shy.”_  
>  ― Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the epilogue! Thank you so much for being so patient!
> 
> A big, big thank-you to everyone following this fic, and who were following CAS, as well. I know I'm not the best writer, but I am trying to improve every time! I'm already working on more, but much less ambitious things, like skateboarding bffs and just random kinkmeme fills. So, if you guys are staying along for the ride, I appreciate it so much!
> 
> Find me on tumblr here: <http://mvgitek.tumblr.com/> I'd love to talk about FFXV with y'all!

For someone who had wanted so much to travel, Prompto was somewhat reluctant to be leaving the Citadel's gardens for such a lengthy amount of time. On the other hand, almost six months had gone by since the wedding and he'd been working nonstop-- he was grateful for the reprieve. Prompto had not let himself fall back on his promises to his old homeland and its people, he kept to his vow to educate himself, and learn how he could help Noctis and Luna usher in a new age of prosperity for Lucis, and the lands that stretched beyond. Inside the safety of the Citadel, he was never alone. Ignis and Gentiana helped him with his studies, Gladio and Aranea with his training, Noctis and Luna there for everything in between. When he wanted peace, he had the gardens. Prompto happily settled in with the gardeners. He pruned, he watered, and otherwise tended to the plants and flowers there whenever there was a spare moment. Now, he would be leaving for nearly three weeks to visit Ravus in Tenebrae with Luna and Noctis.

Luna hadn't seen her brother since the wedding, and Noctis had not been to Luna's homeland in a little more than twelve years. Obviously, the small province was special to the three of them for different reasons, but for Prompto, the thought of seeing the rolling green and rocky cliffs with his own eyes? Well, it kicked up long forgotten feelings both frightening and necessary.

* * *

Fenestala Manor was as Noctis remembered it for the most part, ornate and delicate compared to the Citadel's strong and stoic architecture. Organic shapes and soft white fabric draped from windows and crystal chandeliers. Autumn was beginning to settle over Tenebrae's mountainous ranges, but that hardly phased her people, even the flowers (especially the Sylleblossoms) thrived in the unique climate here.

Housekeepers took care of their luggage as Ravus made his way to the entrance hall to greet them. Although the newly appointed lord carried mostly stiffness in his gait, Luna didn't hesitate to meet him half way, pulling him into a warm embrace.

“Hello brother,” she greeted, and Noctis watched with carefully hidden amusement as Ravus stammered out a reply.

Once the formalities had been taken care of, dinner had been served, and Luna had spent some time catching up with her brother, the three of them could finally relax. Prompto could hardly sleep that night, however. More than anything, he wanted to go out, he wanted to see them with his own eyes.

* * *

“Prompto!”

Lunafreya's voice carried over the rolling waves of green and violet. Her white cloak flapped in the gentle breeze, hood pulled up to protect her neatly pleated hair from the elements. The weather was mild, if not on the cooler side, the sounds of chirping birds and running water echoing off the rocky walls and stone audible over the sound of wind rushing through long, bending blades of grass.

When she received no reply, the queen pursed together her pink lips and then cupped her hands, trying again. “Darling, where are you?”

She picked her way through the familiar, yet endless vale, hoping that Prompto hadn't wandered _too_ far from the manor. There was hardly anything to worry about here, but the Oracle had been through one ordeal after the next at the hands of the empire, and it was still quite difficult to shake old habits of caution.

Once again, she called out. This time, Prompto's reply carried on the wind. She followed his voice and found him – to her surprise – lying flat in the soft grass, curled on his side and unmoving. Prompto looked so young, small and perhaps even vulnerable. “This is where you've been hiding?” she questioned while crouching down to meet him. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Prompto exhaled, eyes fixed on the swaying flowers around him, distracted. The grass and stems had grown long over the hot summer, almost hiding Prompto from view. He was still in shock. The awe of seeing Sylleblossoms in the wild, growing freely and eternally. Their delicate petals the same colour of the bruises blooming on Prompto's heart and mind, the wounds left from his forgotten history. His memories before Tenebrae were lost in undergrowth just like this, buried in wildflowers and tainted by fire and blood.

Lunafreya didn't press him, she simply settled down beside him with her back against the earth. The smell of fresh green, running water, and Sylleblossoms took her back to her childhood, her days spent laughing and playing with Noctis under Gentiana's watchful eye. She turned her head to look at Prompto, his back to her.

“When I was a little girl, Noctis and his father came to visit my family and I. Noctis had been injured in an attack staged by imperial forces. He was gravely injured and sought healing here. That is when we first became friends. We used to come out here, once he was strong enough to walk. I showed him how to weave flowers into crowns and I believe... that was when I fell in love. Perhaps I was too young to understand it then, but I know it now. I am very fortunate.”

Prompto stirred, but didn't turn around right away. The grass beneath him rustled when he nodded and he reached out to touch his fingers to the nearest stem. “That scar on his back was from an attack?” he asked, to which Luna affirmed with a soft sound.

“King Noctis was very brave as a child, despite the hardships he's suffered. Prompto--”

Luna paused, closing her eyes for a moment. “I believe that you were very brave, too for making it to Insomnia all on your own. I didn't know you, but I wish I had. As Oracle--”

Prompto's brow tightened and he finally rolled over, lips pursed as he faced Luna. His eyes were ringed with red and somewhat glazed. “I wouldn't have wanted you to be there for me because of duty,” he said. “I'm happy you're here with me _now_ on your own terms.”

The Oracle smiled, gently thumbing at Prompto's damp, freckled cheeks and beckoning him closer. “I hope you'll take your time while we're here,” she counselled softly. “It would make me happy to know that you can think of Tenebrae fondly from now on.”

Prompto leaned in for a kiss, propping himself up on one arm and hovering over Luna. “I'll start here,” he replied with his usual playful lilt before bringing their lips together.

* * *

Noctis, forever sleeping in, had managed to find them eventually. “I can't leave you two alone for a minute,” he teased as he took a seat among the wildflowers.

Luna and Prompto shared a laugh, and the former let Noctis tug her into his lap, back settled to his chest. “Well,” she announced. “Now that you're here, and since we're talking about memories--”

Prompto leaned over, one hand on Luna's knee and squeezing mischievously, the other dragging a finger from Noctis' throat to his chest. “We want to know if you remember how to braid hair, _majesty_.”


End file.
